


Azeroth Unfolding

by AJ_Wright



Series: The Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles [3]
Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft (Manga), Warcraft - All Media Types, Warcraft II, Warcraft III, Warcraft: Orcs & Humans, World of Warcraft, World of Warcraft (Comics), World of Warcraft - Various Authors
Genre: Aggression, Angst, Armageddon, Childbirth, Death, F/M, Fantasy, Grieving, Guilt, Romance, Sex, War, inner conflict
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-08 04:16:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 38
Words: 128,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13450365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AJ_Wright/pseuds/AJ_Wright
Summary: A dark,  brooding nimbus off the coast of Frostfire Ridge conceals an enemy waiting for its opportunity to invade. Its far-reaching effects have tempers flaring, inner conflicts, families, friends and lovers turning against each other.  It is an enemy so powerful, it will obliterate Azeroth and her affiliated worlds.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Please note, if you have not read "Rogue Firefury" you may find this book a little confusing as particular events in "Rogue" have a major impact on the plot of this story.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Soundtrack can be found here: https://open.spotify.com/user/ahkentit/playlist/0tiNOh3DdMdz1Mv3cwDKOH?si=p00B4sF_Qa-i2On6VG-zjA





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> All rights for the recognised World of Warcraft NPC's, lore and locations in this story belong to Blizzard. All other characters, interaction & general development of the story belong to me.
> 
> The 3rd Book in The Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles.

Dawn - and Rishuul's continual growling woke the group huddled under various closely knit shelters. Lhadral called the cat over, but she wasn't for obeying, something had her unnerved. The hunter decided to investigate and moved to his trusty pet's side.

As Sarah's eyes focused, she saw many others rising and looking towards the west. There was an unearthly quiet over the Dark Portal. Then someone called over and pointed to the horizon.

The line between land and sky was shimmering, wavering as if a heat haze had settled. People started moving forward, straining for a better look. Gradually, the cause of the horizon's distortion came into view.

Concerned murmurings turned into shouts of warning. Before long, anyone who had managed to stay sleeping was wide awake, staring at the horizon.

Transfixed, like a frightened rabbit in headlights, Sarah watched helplessly as the world of Draenor started to crumble and float away before her very eyes. The Unfolding had begun. 

   

Swirling vortexes, thudding on the ground rose hundreds of feet in the air. They spun at a mind-boggling velocity; twisting and swerving around each other, dancing a most macabre, black waltz.

As their destructive hunger tore through the lands, the Azerothians at the portal watched helplessly. Mountains, trees, streams, distant villages, towns and camps, were all uprooted; raped, torn, only crumbling foundations remaining. Like distorted pixels on a computer screen, they warped, twisted and shrank into nothingness.

Sarah's eyes welled as she saw The Void Lords. Gigantic, ethereal, powerful and seemingly indestructible, they crossed the horizon. Their vile vortexes snaked further inland making their way to the portal - towards the world she now called home.

Armageddon had come to Azeroth, and nobody and nothing on the planet could stop it.


	2. The Great Dark Beyond

**_Music: Through the Mirror composed by Adrian von Ziegler_ **

 

 

 

Something had happened. An awakening had occurred. A powerful presence had sent ripples throughout The Great Dark Beyond. And even further afield.

It kept reaching, then folded back on itself causing a consonant palpitation within the fabric of the Twisting Nether. The ethereal creatures within were thrown into chaos, spinning, twisting out of control. Mournful wails and ghostly screams echoed through the astral dimension as it pulsed and swam from the impact.

Its distortion could clearly be seen by any nearby planets which bore life. But those were few. Most had been drained. Devoured. Incinerated. Some had even imploded, their formation decimated leaving only rocks and dust floating within the gravitational pull of the Nether.

Even the boundaries of the Emerald Dream had wavered from this long-awaited appearance. Druids within had been stirred from slumber, but soon they were drawn back to the dream.

There was only one explanation for this disturbance.

A titan had arisen. At last.

Somewhere.

It had been brief but it had nonetheless stirred another entity. Many, in fact. Their current position in the unending cosmos separated them from the source. But a titan leaves its imprint.

Like an invisible umbilical cord reaching out across innumerable galaxies it latched onto to those that hungered, it offered them sustenance. And from this came the promise of the undoing of all that had been done. Another Unfolding was nigh.

The call was irrefutable. It would lead them to the source and they could feed en route devouring matter and energy, leaving a nothingness in their wake. Mass destruction; their sole purpose. It would take time, but what was that? A mere blink within the parameters of creation.

They knew not where they were going, only that they were drawn to a distant planet. They could arrive at their destination soon enough, but they would still be outside of reality looking in. Yet, even from outside they would be able to influence; corrupt.

Theirs was the ultimate power. Desolation. Misery. Hopelessness. Physical beings would be caught in their dark embrace, and it would then trigger the undoing of the living. All manner of life would simply cease to exist. Turned into matter and energy. More food for the travelling devourers.

Duplicitous creatures always helped. They quickened the process, as it were. And so the harvesting would begin once the destination was reached. Brother would turn against brother, father against son, husband against wife. Age-old enemies would find a new reason to hate each other. Then it would be simply a matter of time.

Even from the briefest of flickers, they knew this titan was imbued with unfathomable power. There was one absolute certainty. The titan had to be prevented from rising again.

There needed to be a cleansing. A purification. A culling.

It was time for shadows to reign. The Light had ruled long enough. The end must begin.

The Void Lords were coming.

 

 

 


	3. Wonder

   

Stormwind.

     " _Push_!" Brillyn Sternbrand, the midwife, told the woman in labour. It was about the fifth time in as many minutes she had said that. She poked her head around the sides of the soon-to-be mother's legs to check on how she was faring, but on seeing the thunderous look on the human's face, she quickly shifted back to keep an eye out for the baby's crown.

Here in the small birthing room of the midwife's premises in the Mage District, Sarah Metcalfe lay, knees bent wide apart with a sheet draped over her. Her head raised on plump pillows, she glared in the direction of the little midwife who had just disappeared from sight again in front of Sarah's bent knees. She had been waiting for hours, none too patiently, to deliver her baby.  Now the time was here, and she was losing even more patience by being told to do what her body did of its own accord.

It had started almost ten hours ago, when, just as she'd neared sleep, she felt a dampness spreading over her thighs and under her bottom. Her waters had broken.

Khadgar lay on his side next to her, soft, unobtrusive snores rising from him in the night. In her panic, she had slapped his bare back, hard, to wake him. Like a Nosferatu he'd sat bolt upright, his steel eyes catching the light coming in through the window, giving him a menacing appearance.

     "Is it time?" He asked, his voice sharper than he intended. He wiped his palm over his face, trying to rid his eyes of sleep matter as he turned to the now wide awake Sarah. Her mouth was slack and his eyes followed hers as they travelled down between her legs.

Pulling the sheet back, she stared. Even in the low light, the bed had a dark spreading stain, its source emanating from her sex. "It's started," she whimpered, her eyes locking with Khadgar's.

The Archmage jumped out of bed and pulled on some soft leather britches, hurriedly fastening the ties before fighting his way into a shirt. He cursed under his breath as his hand caught in the fabric of the sleeve, but he forced it through.  He groaned on hearing a taut ripping sound of the material yet again. The seam had suffered at the shoulder, but he didn't have time to care. " _Fuck_!" 

     "Khadgar!" Sarah reprimanded him. He did not normally use such language.  She had herself to blame for that though. She quite often uttered the F-word.

 Absentmindedly he ran his fingers through his recently cropped hair before he bent down to pull on a boot. In his haste, he lost his balance.  " _Fuuuck_!"

Staggering, with arms flailing and his boot getting launched over the room, he fell over, pulling the nightstand with him.  A book and bedside light crashed to the floor barely missing his head.  With a loud grunt and another uncharacteristic expletive, he swept them out of his way and got to his knees.  His head appeared up at the side of the bed, looking rather sheepish. His attempt at being the cool, collective father-to-be just wasn't coming together now the actual time was here.

Sarah just shook her head and sighed irritably.  "Baffoon!" she grumbled. "Thank Elune  _I'm_ the pregnant one."

She swung her legs over the bed. With her right hand supporting her back she pushed herself upright with her left. Sounds of "oof" and "urgh" tumbling from her lips as she straightened.

Khadgar, having righted himself, and having finally donned his boots, came round the side of the bed and held up her dressing gown for her to slip into. Gently, as if he feared he would break her, he secured the belt around her swollen belly, resting his hands for a moment on his child within. Looking at her, he saw her face trying to conceal the worry about the pending event. He kissed her lightly on her lips. "You will be fine, Sarah. You  _and_  our baby," he said.

     "I hope so." A nervous smile played on her lips. She clung to his arm for a moment as the first of the contractions began. It felt like a normal stomach cramp. It only lasted a little while before subsiding. _Well, that wasn't so bad_ , she thought. Her next smile was a little more confident.

Quickly he gathered the things she had already packed a week earlier, ready for the birth. Once he ensured she was able to stand unaided, he conjured a portal to the rooms of the midwife, Brillyn Sternbrand.

Brillyn had shrieked at the sudden whoosh and pop of a portal invading her premises. But, on seeing the couple emerging from its centre she quickly ushered them into the room she had prepared for this very day. She rattled on a couple of doors in the passing and two nurses came to their aid, tying their aprons and fixing their little bonnets as they ran.

The birthing room was bright and airy, a freshly made bed for mummy and a comfy sofa should daddy need to rest while waiting for the birth to happen.  Or indeed, if he fainted during it, as had happened on the odd occasion. 

Pictures along three of the walls depicted proud parents and happy little babies all delivered by the reputable Brillyn Sternbrand over the years.   One, a family of worgens, was positively disturbing, however. The father of the two looked in a worse state than the mother. Plus, they really should not try smiling when in their lupine form.  _All those teeth are unsettling_ , Sarah thought. How their little baby – which was in human form – didn't look terrified, Sarah just didn't know.

Other than the worgens, there was quite a selection of new parents on the walls, including dwarves, of course, humans, night elves even gnomes. She was particularly pleased to see a familiar family too. Lukha, Taril and Caeniir. Their faces calmed her considerably.

That was nine hours ago, however, and Sarah had endured the long wait, with ever-increasing, drawn-out contractions. Now, with unbelievable intensity, they came fast and furious. And Brillyn's instructions to do the obvious were jarring on Sarah's nerves. She was becoming agitated, fed by the exhaustion starting to creep over her. She had, after all, went without sleep since early morning the day before. The dwarf's last order truly irritated her.

     "I  _am_  pushing, goddammit!" Sarah's temper was seriously frayed at the little woman. With her deep auburn hair clamped to her face, her skin coated with a thin film of sweat with her eyes bulging, Sarah felt positively murderous. She swore if Brillyn told her to push once more, she would lash out and kick the little dwarf through the window.

Sarah had refused any magic to assist with the birth, saying that she felt it was important to embrace the miracle and see it through as nature had intended. Now, however, she realised she had been extremely naive, but, there was no way she was going to renege on her decision - even though she felt she was being ripped apart down below.

     " _Damn_  you Khadgar!" she growled, eyes almost feral as she looked at the man holding her hand. "This is  _your_  fault!" Her slender fingers tightened around his large manly hand, in something akin to a fel-weaver's vice-like grip.

The normally refined Archmage winced, involuntarily pushing himself up a little off the chair as her nails dug into his flesh, yet again. For all she was tired, she was inordinately strong and his hand was taking some punishment. The corners of his mouth twitched nervously as he glanced helplessly towards the midwife. Her head bobbed round Sarah's legs again and grimaced as she saw Khadgar's face.  His steel eyes were scrunching up as Sarah dug deep troughs in his skin.

 _Poor man_ , Brillyn thought, but she couldn't help but giggle quietly to herself. She had heard plenty women blame their partners for this life event.  Apparently, it was a one-sided thing, according to many women in labour.  On one occasion, a father had left the rooms in a bloodier state than the mother. Of course, she thought, quickly glancing at the picture on the wall, in hindsight a worgen was not the best patient to give birth in a confined space. Those births all got done out in the open now.

     "Muradin help us a' if she sterts wi' that glowy thingummybob," the midwife muttered. She referred to the demon hunter markings that the human bore. The "gift", if it could be called that, was Illidan Stormrage's doing after Sarah had extracted him from the Twisting Nether. She'd been critically injured in the process but the demon hunter had cauterised her wounds and bound their spirits so that she would survive the deathly grip of the Nether. The side-effect was that during times of emotional stress, and (going by some rumours floating around ladies' circles in Stormwind) the emotional  _bliss_  of "other" activities, the woman had lit up like Great Father Winter's tree.

     "I can hear you, for all you're buried down there!" Sarah snarled at Brillyn.

     "Ah wisnae meanin' onything now, Sarah. Ye ken me better than that, lass." Brillyn grinned to herself.

     "I thought I did but I've reached the conclusion I don't know you at all!  _You little witch_!"

Brillyn laughed. She had been called a lot worse than that in her twenty years as midwife to the populace of Stormwind.

As if on cue, Sarah's demon hunter markings began to ripple with a pale golden light. The sudden look of defeat on her face pained Khadgar. She had been so determined to try everything in her power not to ignite her unusual talent, but the excruciating pain of childbirth was winning the battle.

She was still coming to terms with the markings on her body, even after all these months, desperately trying to control the "light bulb effect". For all she was in pain, the disappointment that her demonic ability may rob her of giving birth naturally was clearly displayed in her eyes.

Khadgar wiped her brow with a dampened cloth to calm her, shushing her gently as he did so. Her grip on his other hand tightened and the oddest of sounds came from his lips. Brillyn grinned again.

Another push, then Sarah guffawed. " _Jeez_! He is a little  _sod_!"

     " _He_?" Khadgar asked. "How do you know?"

     "Because he's  _stubborn_! Like his  _father_ ," she grit her teeth, but not without the briefest flicker of humour crossing her eyes as she looked at her beloved Archmage.

     "I see the crown," Brillyn suddenly announced from behind Sarah's covered legs.

     "Thank  _fuck_  for that!" Sarah gasped.

The dwarf's disapproving face appeared round Sarah's legs. Sarah glared at her, daring her to say something. Khadgar's eyes flitted between the two. "She meant Elune," he said to the dwarf. "She was thanking Elune." Sarah's nails dug in deeper and he winced once more.

     "I most certainly _fucking_   _did not_!" she said, pain etched on her face.

The Archmage groaned inwardly, slowly closing his eyes and shaking his head. Sarah's mouth at times just did not know the meaning of modesty and her profanity often left some Azerothians stunned and shocked.  Personally, if he was honest, it amused him and he thought nothing of it when it was just the two of them.  He had even been guilty himself, tonight.  But at this moment in time, with his hand being shredded, a tetchy dwarf midwife and two young nurses in the vicinity, it was bordering on embarrassing.

Brillyn disappeared from sight once more, muttering under her breath. She signalled to the two nurses to bring forth the clean water and towels. It wouldn't be long now.

     "A'right, Sarah, yin mair shid dae it. Now  _push_ lassie!"

Having expelled a few short breaths between pursed lips, Sarah took an almighty gulp of air and pushed one final time. Her demonic markings flared, a shimmering haze of white gold hovered above the expectant parents. It intensified as she roared between clenched teeth. Tendrils, like angel hair, floated down from the pulsing haze and encompassed the bed and its occupant as well as Khadgar and Brillyn. The pain lessened dramatically, and Sarah's vocal outpouring ceased as did her need to push any more.

Then...

The cry of a newborn babe filled the room. Khadgar's breathing hitched momentarily at the sound of his child. With his eyes wide, staring at Sarah, his mouth curved into a smile of utter joy.  Pushing himself up from the seat beside the bed, he leaned over and kissed her deeply.  At the same time, the golden shroud flickered and then vanished altogether.

Sarah's face was still moist, glistening from the exertion of birthing their child. The sheet clung mercilessly to her body, adhered by the perspiration. She looked up at him, exhaustion settling on her face, but steadily bliss superseded it, seeing his expression of love and admiration.  She glanced at his hand which she still held. Her brow creased. "Oh god! I'm so sorry, Khadgar," she looked back up into the steel orbs which adored her. His eyes were swimming. "I really hope that's tears of joy threatening and not ones of pain." She smiled, wistfully.

A small laugh escaped him. "You can do this to me as many times as you wish, Sarah." He looked expectantly towards Brillyn who approached them with a little bundle swathed in a soft mageweave blanket. "This was worth it." He smiled.

     "A son," the dwarf announced. "Congratulations tae the baith o' ye." She laid the little babe in Sarah's waiting arms and opened the blanket, baring the little boy.  Sarah looked at the dwarf questioningly. Brillyn smiled and explained. "The little'un should feel yer skin lass, it is part o' the bondin'.  An' he might want tae feed soon."

Sarah nodded, then looked at the tiny face of her son. His petrol blue eyes big and bright, looked up at her. His lips pursed then tightened and the finest little ripples appeared on his brow. He looked like he was about to cry. Sarah felt a wash of dismay, remembering the reaction from Lukha's son when she'd held him for the first time.  _Does he not like me_? she fretted.

Then –  _parp_!! The little mouth curved into a toothless smile as a warm trickle followed from his pudgy member.

Sarah laughed softly. Baby's first wind and pee. "Just like your father," she said, stroking the babe's cheek with her forefinger. She glanced up at the Archmage, smirking. 

Khadgar was leaning over, the large proud smile on his face faltering suddenly at her words. "What do you mean,  _just like your father_!"

Her teasing, yet tired smile then made him laugh lightly at her jest. His attention turned back to the little bundle, now chortling away in his mother's arms. He was mesmerised.

     "Our son," he breathed. "We have a son!" He reached forward to touch the babe, but Brillyn caught his wrist.

     "Wait a wee second there, Archmage. Ah 'll clean up that hand of yers afore ye touch the little 'un."

Khadgar, his eyes having never left his son, merely nodded and whispered a thank you. With the birth over, Brillyn now had licence to use her magic. As a former priest, Brillyn wove her spell of healing over the Archmage's hand, revitalising the skin that Sarah had gouged and bruised during the birth.  Khadgar was vaguely aware of the warm, flowing sensation encompassing his hand. The rainbow hues signifying the process of the healing spell finally turned to a pristine, virginal white, indicating his hand was completely back to normal.

Gently, Brillyn moved Khadgar's hand forward until his palm cupped the back of his son's head. She smiled as she witnessed the wonder on his face. She had known him for years and had seen many sides to the man. His serious side, the humorous side, the pensive, sorrowful, angry, frightened, yes, even  _he_  had been frightened, and his tetchy side. But never had she seen him like he was now. This woman Sarah, and the babe she bore him was his entire world. She could almost see the love emanating from the man.

She felt a little overcome by his adoration and so she turned away and busied herself using her magic to heal Sarah's lower region from the rips in her vaginal opening.  Then she set the nurses to work with cleaning up the bloodied sheets and towels. Levitating Sarah slightly, she moved her to the sofa until the bed was changed, and levitated her back to fresh plump pillows and crisp clean sheets. Khadgar was glued to her side both times as her body floated across the room.

 

 ** _Music: Wonder composed by BrunuhVille_**    

Once mother, father and baby were settled again, Brillyn then showed Sarah how to hold her son to feed him. "It's no' quite as simple as ye'd think," she said, positioning the baby's head against Sarah's breast. "Some women jist cannae dae it for yin reason or anither. But, be patient lass, gie him time to find his way." She guided Sarah telling her to brush her nipple against the babe's mouth. At first, the little one moved his head away, but Sarah tried again, and again. This time, he was more than happy to accept. Sarah's mouth split into a huge smile as her son took his very first feed.

Khadgar seemed quite emotional at the scene, his hand back at his son's head, lightly caressing the soft down that covered his scalp.  The look of wonder was still on his face. His eyes found Sarah's and the love that flowed between them was almost tangible. Brillyn decided it was time to leave the new family be for a while, but said she would bring some honey mint tea and a little cake first, just to boost Sarah's sugar levels. The Archmage declined any tea for himself. Ushering the nurses out of the room with her, Brillyn quietly closed the door behind them.

They had not discussed names in any great detail, but Sarah had had one name in mind for a boy since she had learned she was pregnant. Now would be the time to see if Khadgar approved. If he did not, it was no matter, but she hoped he would like her choosing.

Their son was still feeding, his tiny fingers flexing every now and again, his chest rising and falling with quick little breaths. Gradually, they slowed and his mouth slipped from her nipple as he fell into a contented slumber. She lifted him so his chest was against hers and gently she rubbed his back, hoping to ease any wind from his feed. He was sound asleep. She looked at Khadgar. "I have a name for him," she said quietly. "If you approve."

The Archmage's eyes locked with hers. "Go on," he smiled.

     "It's not a common name, for a human anyway," she felt strangely nervous.

Khadgar raised a quizzical eyebrow.

     "I thought we could call him...Ocel?"

Khadgar's breath escaped him. He lowered his head, he had clearly not expected that. Sarah's demonic markings flared a little as she experienced a touch of panic. She had not wanted to upset him by stirring painful memories. When he raised his eyes to her again, they were once more brimming. "There is no end to your kind heart is there, Sarah?"

     "You – you approve?" she asked, her voice quivering.

     "Oh yes. And I am sure, Ocel will be smiling with pride in the Twisting Nether." He leaned over and kissed her tenderly then placed a kiss on his baby's head. "Ocel," he whispered, "Welcome, my beautiful son."

 

   


	4. Looking Through A Pint Glass Darkly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains mature themes including mention of a hallucinogenic substance and sexual content

**Edinburgh, Scotland**

 

Friday night and Drew Stewart, on a lads night out with his three mates, raised his pint to his lips. He had travelled up on the train with Alex and Rod after work. In just over an hour they had arrived at Edinburgh's Waverley station and made a beeline for Deacon Brodie's bar on the Royal Mile. There they met up with Jimmy, who lived in "Auld Reekie" itself.

The four of them, from different walks of life, had met on Facebook a few years ago having all been members of various gaming pages on the site.

Jimmy, tattooed, dreadlock wearing, partial to the odd spliff, worked in a music store, called  _Sounds,_  which his father had founded thirty years ago. It sold everything from CD's, DVD's, Bluray, to books, musical instruments and memorabilia. His father was an amazing guitarist and had been known to take on the odd student keen to learn the instrument, but it was rare. He played mostly for pleasure and regularly teamed up with his son Jimmy, who played the fiddle and the bodhran. They often performed at various folk festivals both locally and further afield.

Alex worked for a local newspaper chain, The Tweeddale Press Group. He worked in the pre-press, designing the layout of the pages, columns and advertisements. He'd been doing that for about ten years, but he wanted to try something different, particularly in web design and was in the process of moving up to the city to pursue that career. He was the peacock of the group, always primping and preening and immaculately turned out. He had a string of girlfriends the size of one of his newspaper print runs and moving, changing almost as fast.

Rod was a tradesman. A joiner primarily, but also knew his way round masonry and plastering. He broke away from his employer two years ago to start his own business. He was doing well enough, but it was hard-going and competitive. He was kept busy, however, with contracts lined up for the next eighteen months. Built like a brick outhouse, he was a gym addict and had a physique that had many women ended up with lolling tongues, not to mention a few men too.

Tonight the lads were celebrating Alex' thirty-fourth birthday and so they all met to engage in a night of drunken debauchery.

The conversation, as it usually did, turned to the subject of women. Drew was the first to be questioned. They had met Sarah a couple of times though it had taken a lot of effort from Drew to get her to go out. He had also spoken of her often enough when the guys all met up for their booze riddled nights out. This time, of course, he had to adopt a story which Sarah herself had suggested. He informed them that she had left suddenly, taking up an offer to move abroad, for a few months anyhow. He just couldn't bring himself to say she was gone forever, even in a trumped-up story.

     "So, ye miserable bastard, did ye fuck her before she left?" Rod asked.

Drew raised the pint to his lips again but paused for a moment before he took a drink. The question had been expected. Still, it left a slightly bitter after-taste and no, that wasn't attributed to the beer.

     "No," came his reply, before he continued with his pint. He shrugged, trying to imply it was not a big issue for him. His eyes quickly scanned his group of friends before looking away towards the bar. Inwardly, he sighed. The sooner this conversation was over, the better  _so just roll with the punches_ , he told himself.

A look passed between the other three with raised eyebrows and shrugs. "Maybe for the best," Alex offered. "Great body and she was a looker but,  _Christ_ , she was a dour bitch. First whimpering over her failed marriage, then walking about like a zombie after the pile-up."

Drew bristled at Alex' slating of Sarah. There was so much more to her than the times she hit rock bottom. Still, he couldn't afford to go charging in fiercely defending her, otherwise, the guys wouldn't let the subject go.

     "Be fair guys, even  _you_  weren't easy to put up with when particular relationships failed. I can recall us all, at one time or another, trying to drown one of our sorrowful asses in a few pints and other substances. And as far as the accident was concerned, that would shock the shit out of anyone. I saw it happen, it wasn't pleasant!"

They mumbled in agreement then started on one another cataloguing their successes and fails with the opposite sex, punctuated with uproarious laughter and innuendoes. Drew just smirked and nodded now and again to give the impression he was listening, but his mind was elsewhere.

It had only been five days since Drew's return from Azeroth, but still ... he missed her terribly. Sarah! It had been hard enough coming to terms that she had fallen in love with,  by all accounts, a make-believe character in a game – an image on a computer screen. Now, however, having been part of the world of Azeroth for real, he knew better. Those animated individuals actually lived, loved and could even procreate, in another dimension. And there lay the very thing that drove the blade into his heart. Sarah was pregnant. By an NPC in World of Warcraft.

He had felt a brutal tug in his heart when he had slipped through the portal back to his home. Alone. But, it didn't really hit home until he had sat at his desk in work, looking at her empty seat, trying to come up with a feasible story as to why she wasn't there. And never would be again.

The words "faithful puppy" came unbidden, into his mind. The corners of his mouth twitched as he recalled her little term of endearment. Yes, he had been attracted to her, from the first day he'd seen her. And yes, he'd went out his way to help her, tried to make her smile when she was at her lowest, take her out – although that was very rare, and always in a group. He'd even subjected her to this rowdy bunch a couple of times. And, he had been the very one who introduced her to the ruddy game of Warcraft in the first place.

It had taken an unbelievable journey to the fantasy world, a close and personal encounter with a beautiful blood elf demon hunter, Sarah nearly dying, then being saved and marked by the gigantic, purple, Illidan Stormrage, and the announcement that she was pregnant –  _by a fucking pixel!_  – before the truth finally flared up in his face. It was more than just a sexual desire.

He was in love with her. That had even surprised him when he admitted it.

It had been Tiene Firefury that had made him surrender to the honesty of it. The beautiful and oh so tragic demon hunter who had seduced him in a forest had opened his eyes to his true feelings. On hearing Tiene's story the night before he left Azeroth, about the man who owned her heart, he admitted to his own heart-rending predicament. She let him know she had seen the look in his eyes when he was close to Sarah. She knew. Sweet Tiene. His mouth played a sad smile at the memory and he had to turn towards the bar again so his friends didn't see.

Staring at the bottom of his glass, he felt the need for many more full ones of these.

     "Another round?" he asked his friends, holding up his empty pint. They all agreed. Drew went to the bar, relieved to get away from the table for a few minutes.

He stood, waiting to be served, being elbowed by others desperate to be first in the line. He looked at the barman as he approached and held out a twenty-pound note over the heads of some other punters shoving their way in. He was the next one served, much to the annoyance of those still pushing beside him. A shout from behind him let him know Rod had come up to help take the drinks over.  He handed over a couple of pints to Rod, spilling some on a scantily clad, heavily painted woman whose bust was pushed so far up, her chin nearly rested in the cleavage. She was his senior – by millennia! Smutty. Gagging for it. A cougar. A very  _drunk_ cougar.

     "Care to lick that off, sweetie?" she said, pouting at him as she swayed back and forth in the sea of bodies at the bar.

     "I'll pass, thanks." He turned holding the other two pints and started trying to wedge his way through the thirsty crowd. The woman inched closer and he had to raise his arms so her ample breasts didn't knock the glasses from his hands. The tactic failed and he watched as a trickle of frothy lager slid down her cleavage.

Her painted face looked up at him, powder embedded in the wrinkles around her eyes and mouth. She purred, licking her top lip in an attempt to look seductive and shimmying her breasts against him. "Are you sure about that handsome? Do you have any idea what you're missing?"

He was repulsed by her. Huffing, he stared at her heaving bosom, then looked her straight in the eyes. "Suffocation, for one thing, I would think,  _ma'am!_ " he said, revulsion fuelling his retort. It was uncharacteristic for him to be rude to any woman, but tonight, this fossilised succubus made his flesh creep. Tonight he just wanted to get blasted. Dull the pain.

     " _Faggot_!" she spat back. She then quickly moved on to next young man in the queue, pressing herself up against him. He looked equally mortified.

Drew shook his headin disbelief. He managed back to the table without too much more spillage. 

Reaching the table, he found the conversation had steered in a different direction. Gaming.

When he put the pints down he looked up to see his friends had been joined by three others sitting at the table next to them. Two men, both in their late twenties, Drew reckoned, were talking and laughing with Jimmy. The topic was role-playing in-game. The woman with them, a redhead was equally animated in the conversation. Her eyes turned to him as put the glasses down. She took her time checking him out, then a slow smile crossed her full lips before she turned back to Jimmy and her companions.

Retaking his seat, Jimmy introduced him to the newcomers. "Drew, this is Mel," he said, gesturing to the man nearest him. "He's a regular at Sounds. Plays a mean blues on the guitar and into gaming, like us."

Drew nodded, "Hi."

     "Hey, Drew."

     "This is Mick," Jimmy proceeded, pointing to the other guy. Average looking guy, the severely sculpted hair being the most interesting thing about him. Mick said hello, as did Drew.

     "And I'm Bernadette," the woman said, holding her hand out to Drew. "But I prefer Bernie."

Drew reached over and shook her hand. Her fingers were covered in rings and beaded bracelets adorned her wrist. Tribal tattoos travelled up her arm, bleeding onto her collarbone and up her neck. He noticed her facial piercings, lip, nose and brow. She was quite a striking woman, and her hair, although not a natural red, was long and silky.

 

**_Music: Innocent Man by Rag 'n' Bone Man_ **

 

They all engaged in the discussion of games. Characters, preferences, gear, drops, mounts, lore, achievements, quests, format, cross-realms, cross-games, role-play. Lots of hilarity. Boos and cheers.

Drinks flowed, refills bought, downed. Tequila hit the table and the challenge was on. Sometime during the night, a little hallucinogenic substance wormed its way in. More drinks. Music turned up, booming.

Bernie on his lap, gyrating.

_Sarah making breakfast dancing and singing to T-Rex' Get It On._

Nuzzling his earlobe. Tongues duelling. More drinks. A ring-encrusted hand on his crotch.

 _A forest. A waterfall._   _Fucking in the ferns. Tiene._

The buildings swimming, pulsing. Car horns blaring. Taxi drivers cursing out their windows. Obstacles in his way. 

_One pissed off Watcher - Maiev.  Tyrande and Malfurion against it.  Killing demons with a worgen. Extracting the Lord of the Illidari from the Vault._

Bernie's hand inside his jeans. Hard and throbbing trying to get free.  Twenty-foot demons thundering through the Royal Mile.  _What_? Staggering along the street to Jimmy's flat. Giant fucking felbats overhead.  _Duck_!  His hand under Bernie's mini-skirt in a dark doorway. Wet. 

 _Gul'dan lurking in the entrance to the Seat._ _Battles._ _Sucking life._ _The draenei Ocel – dying.  Sad. Erik firing arrows and traps.  Illidan emerging from his felblood prison. Sarah's limp body.  Portal. Suramar._

Lights glaring, dimming, spinning. Curtains rippling at an open window.  Another demon stomping past. The sound of traffic coming up from below.  Flopping onto a bed, Bernie falling on top of him frantically undoing his zipper.

_Sarah on a bed, alive. Illidan healed the wounds over her body, cauterising her flesh. Imbuing her with power._

Hot bodies. Kissing. Sucking. Biting. Growling felhound in the corner, red eyes flashing. Pert, pierced nipples. Tattoos.

_Sarah, half demon hunter, markings over her breasts. Hot. Lighting up. Fuck!_

Room spinning. Carried by demon hunters. Heavy breathing. Green fel. Pulsing. Deepthroat. Erect.

_Azeroth rising. Shields over the allies. Blasted the fuck out of Sargeras. Sliding into the gaping tomb._

Deep inside Bernie. Riding hard. Her legs wrapped tight around his hips. Oh, fuck!  _Release_.

_Pregnant! Staying with Khadgar – the father of her baby. A portal in the throne room. Going home._

Alone. 

_She's in Azeroth._

Tired. Just so fucking tired.  

_The key to make a portal. Must return. Have to..._

Blackness.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Light filtered through the gap in the curtains. It found its way to the body sprawled on the bed, drawing laser lines over the ribbed torso. Drew stirred, pulling his arm over his eyes. The exertion caused him to grunt. His muscles ached and his head felt like someone was inside it banging a sledgehammer in his skull. "Jesus, fuckin' Christ!" he groaned. His dark lashes flickered against his forearm. Slowly he moved his arm and quickly shut his eyes again. "Shit!" It was way too bright. He rolled onto his side away from the light source.

Once facing the door, he tentatively opened his eyes once more. He was alone. He vaguely remembered a redhead with lots of rings and piercings. He became aware of something tickling him between his legs. He looked down. "What the ...!" A beaded bracelet was looped around his penis with a note attached. He removed the bizarre token. Scrunching up his eyes he read the note.

_Delicious!_

_Hope to taste you again._

_Maybe in Azeroth?_

_Bernie x_

 

A lipstick kiss was after the name and also where the note had been attached.

 

 

Maybe in Azeroth? He tried to recall what was said the night before. His mind drifted erratically to Deacon Brodie's. The cougar. For a second his heart stopped, thinking this Bernie and the cougar was one in the same. A picture of the red-head came to the fore. He exhaled. Thank god for that! His hazy inner ear tried to interpret the conversation and gradually it came back. Gaming. Role-playing.

Just how much he had said, he was unclear about, but surely she would have either thought he was merely talking role-play or if it came to the worst, that he was crazy, a few sandwiches short of a picnic. No-one would believe he was talking the truth, if indeed he had.

He pushed himself up. His head swam.  _Never again!_  his sensible inner voice said.  _Until the next time,_  his true self replied. Head in hands he groaned. He needed to get home.

Gathering his clothes, he thought about how much he had last night. As he slowly pulled on his boxers, he wondered how on earth he'd managed to consume so much  _and_  indulge in other substances without passing out hours before he reached the flat. In Azeroth it took him only two mugs of ale to be rendered useless. Well, first time it did anyway. Next time when he was out with Erik, he managed more and stayed compos mentis.

He staggered his way through to the bathroom. The light coming through the window hit every pristine white surface it could find, creating a blinding brilliance, and made negotiating his way to the sink a painful journey. Once he reached it, he clung to the edge. Glancing at the toilet, it issued an invitation for last night's indulgence to escape. His stomach lurched. Invitation accepted. He flushed. Out of sight out of mind.

Pulling himself straight again, he looked at himself in the mirror. He was overcome by a stab of guilt.  _What the hell for_? he asked himself. It's not as if he was unfaithful to Sarah. All he had of her, was friendship.

He didn't feel like this when he lay with a demon hunter. Tiene made him feel that being with her was just cushioning the blow, finding a little comfort from the harsh reality of owning a wounded heart.

For some inexplicable reason though, last night felt like a betrayal. Furthermore, sex with the red-head had meant nothing to him. It had simply been a bodily reaction to a woman who was more than willing to indulge in sexual gratification. Hell he couldn't even remember if it was any good, although her note stating he was "delicious" tended to suggest it was. Truthfully, he didn't care if he never saw Bernie again.

He did however, care about not seeing Sarah. Splashing his face with water, he wondered, as he often did, why it was he felt so strongly about her now.? Now that she had made a commitment to Archmage Khadgar and was pregnant with his child. Now she was unreachable, untouchable, unavailable.  Maybe there was just no answer, it just  _was_ , and that was it. One of life's little quirks that liked to piss you off.

He knew well enough there was no hope, but he desperately wanted to see her again. Only six days had passed here since he had returned, but it could be months later now in Azeroth. Perhaps she had had her baby? He knew not why he wanted to put himself through this agony, but somehow he needed to do it.

He squeezed some toothpaste on his finger and cleaned his teeth. No way did he use other folk's brushes. Then a quick swill around with the mouthwash. He looked at the shower. He really should take one before he went on the train. He switched it on and waited until the water was hot before he dropped the boxers and stepped in. He just stood, breathing deeply and let the water cascade over his shoulders. It felt good.

Refreshed somewhat after his shower, he dressed and moved through to the living area and into the kitchen. He found a note from Jimmy on the fridgefreezer.

 

Help yourself to breakfast.Had to go to work. 

Rough as a badger's arse, but can't let the old man down.

Rod and Alec are viewing a flat this morning, by the way and

said they'll catch you back home.

See you when you back up in the city.

And next time, try and keep the noise down eh?

Don't know what your technique is but that Bernie left

this morning looking  _very_  happy. All I'm saying is,

thank fuck it wasn't coke you took last night

or you's would still be going at it!!

LOL

See ya

J

 

Drew laughed. Never was one for quick notes, Jimmy. Always ended up like a Russian novel. Drew's version would have been much shorter.

He made some toast and a coffee. It all helped him feel more like himself again. He checked the time. Should be a train around one-thirty, so he'd head off now. But before he did, he left a note for Jimmy. He smirked as he wrote:

Great night. Thanks.

Who's Bernie?

See ya

D


	5. Fantasy or Reality

 

 

The apartment on South Clerk Street had been home to Mick, Mel and Bernie for almost five years. It was spacious, with four bedrooms a large bathroom, ample kitchen and a huge central hall.  

Mick, being the highest earner of the three as an Investment Risk Analyst with Rathbone Investment Management, had been the one to secure the flat and then Mel and Bernie moved in within a few months.   

Mel was a Production Co-ordinator and Bernie worked in the Marketing section of a company called The Ultimate Event.  It offered its clientele, whether individuals, small or large organisations or charities, specialist corporate events, dealing with venues, various contractors and performers. 

With a monthly rent of two and a half thousands pounds,  they three of them were able to keep the flat easily enough with their combined salaries, but another flatmate would always mean less demand on their purse-strings.

The fourth room was still for rent, but the trio was picky when choosing the fourth member to join their happy home. No unemployed – yes they  _did_ try even though they had no way to pay the rent, no stuck up snobs, no prudes, no religious fanatics, no politics, no wannabe's, no single parents, no pets, no serious criminal records, no paedophiles, perverts or anyone thinking they were starring in 50 Shades (they did  _not_ have, nor  _would_  have a red room of pain!). 

Acceptable candidates had to hold down steady jobs, pay rent every Friday without fail or else they were out, respect existing flatmates and their belongings, like music and even better, play an instrument so they could jam together, enjoy drinking, partying, getting stoned now and again if the opportunity arose - but absolutely no dealing allowed, keep their room tidy and willingly operate by the cleaning rota for the bathroom, kitchen and living area  _without_  debate.

They had plenty applicants, but few met the criteria.

Bernie threw herself back onto the sofa. She dangled her legs over its arm and hitched up a couple of cushions under her head.

     "So, a good night then, Bernie?" Mel asked, smirking as he picked up his guitar and started strumming a few bluesy chords.

     "Yup!" she answered, beaming like a Cheshire cat.

     "Gave you his number then, did he?"

     "Nope. But I've got it anyway." She turned sly eyes towards him. "I rang my phone from his when he was totally out of it."

     "You are a sneaky cow," Mel laughed.

Bernie's mouth tightened. "I'm not a  _cow_!"

     "Of course not. That's why you fucked him five hours after meeting him." Mel laughed.

Bernie grabbed a cushion and threw it at him. "Bastard!" she spat.

He deflected it and laughed. "I'm just teasing you, Bernie.  Lighten up."

She huffed. "I liked him," she pouted.

     "So we saw," Mel risked, ready to duck another missile. The only thing she threw this time was another expletive.

She shifted so she was lying on her side and stared at him. He eyed her from the side. "What did you think about the role-play he was on about?" she asked.

Mel laughed. "Yeah, sounded good fun." he strummed more on his guitar.

     "Seriously, Mel. What did you think?"

He looked at her trying to gauge where she was going with this. Bernie liked to come across as the independent, all tough modern filly but he knew deep down she was a fanciful romantic. She would deny it, of course. But, on more than one occasion he'd caught her huddled on the window seat, howling over a book, a box of tissues having been decimated, lying crumpled, soaking from her tears all around the floor at her feet.

Other times he would find her leaning on her palm simply staring out the window, a distant longing in her eyes, listening to some emotional lyrics. He wouldn't disturb her when he came across her like that, he would quietly go about his business. He liked that she was actually more girlie than she cared to admit.

There was a darkness in her past though. Memories of something still haunted Bernie and he often heard her moaning and crying in the wee small hours as the nightmares kicked in. He went to her on those occasions, just to give her a shoulder to cry on, but still, she remained quiet about whatever demons lay under her bed.

Returning to the moment, he sighed. "It's just a game, Bernie. What am I  _supposed_ to think about it?"

She rolled over on to her back again. "He told me more once we left the pub."

     "Uh huh," he responded, shaking his head, grinning.

She turned her head to look at him again. "The way he spoke, it didn't sound as though it was just role-playing in-game."

     "And so what  _did_  it sound like, Bernie?" Mel glanced up.

     "Like he really lived it. Like he was  _there_. In Azeroth. For  _real_!"

Mel put his guitar down and stood up. He shook his head in disbelief, his man-bun bouncing lightly from side to side as he did. "You've been reading too many fantasy and romance novels, Bernie."

She swung her legs round and rested her forearms on her knees. Her eyes were huge and bright and there was a real enthusiasm in her voice. "Mel, I swear it. I think he was talking about actual experiences in Azeroth. You should have heard him. It was  _really_  detailed. The battles, the people - dwarves, draenei, worgen, Khadgar, even  _Illidan_! He described them as they were living, breathing people."

Mel stared at her. Shifting from one foot to the other he started gesturing with his hands, which he often did when he tried to get a point across. "Listen to yourself! The guy is just either an exceptional story-teller or out of his fucking head! There is no way that shit is real."

Bernie bolted up, bringing herself mere inches from Mel's face. Her eyes were dark, furious. "I'm telling you, Mel. I believe him. And no, it's not from overdosing on romance novels or any kind of wistful dream. You had to hear him to even form an opinion."

Mel clucked his tongue and turned away towards the windows. "I  _did_  hear him," he said over his shoulder.

     "Only the start. There was so much more than what you heard. And furthermore, one of  _our_  kind, an earthling if you please, is still over there. She chose to stay. He is talking about returning."

     "Jesus, Bernie! You were both high as kites! Seems to me he not only fucked your body he's fucked with your head as well." He picked up his jacket and shrugged into it.

The front door slammed and Mick breezed in in his inimitable way, black overcoat flapping behind him, theatrical gestures as he entered the living room.

     "Ooh, bitch fight!" He said feeling the tension in the room as he walked in on their conversation. He nonchalantly dropped a bag of groceries on the sofa. Oranges and apples fell out the bag, off the cushions and onto the floor, rolling towards Mel. Mick threw himself down in the armchair next to the windows and plonked his feet up on the coffee table. He glanced out down to the street, before knitting his fingers together and looking between the two flatmates. He wore an expectant expression, waiting to hear what the heated debate was about.  

Nothing. Just Mel grumbling as he bent down to pick up the oranges and apples. 

     "Well?" Mick said dramatically. "What's the claws out for today?" He posed the last question to Bernie.

She narrowed her eyes at him to which he feigned fear, pulling his coat collar tightly around his neck. His reaction made the corners of her mouth twitch, fighting a smirk. She could never stay mad for long at Mick. "I was telling Mel about Drew's visit to Azeroth..." she started.

Mick's eyes widened and he steeple-jacked his fingers as if giving her words serious consideration. "His... _visit_?" He cocked an eyebrow and glanced at Mel, who, in turn, flexed his brows, then turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand.

     "Yes! Come  _on_ , Mick.  _You_  heard him last night!" She was almost pleading with him to agree with her.

     "We were talking role-play if I remember correctly, Bernie. Pretend stuff. Now I  _know_ , we are supposed to be  _grown_  human beings – "

     "Fuck you!" she said and turned to leave the room.

Mick was out of his seat walking over to her. "OK! I'm sorry!" He shuffled a bit on his feet and removed his overcoat, throwing it down on the sofa.  "Come on.  Tell me ... _whatever_  it is you think is so... _real_."

She stopped. Fists clenched in frustration, she considered just going to her room and sulking. Yet, she really thought there was something here. Drew's recount was heartfelt. Yes, they were high, but even through the fuzz, there was an absolute honesty about it. And she also dared to think, there could be something worth pursuing with Drew. Mel, of course, would accuse her of an overactive romantic imagination. Well – maybe he was right, but she wanted to find out for sure.

     "Imagine," she said, slowly turning to the two men in the room again. "Just – imagine... for  _one_  moment at least, if it were at all possible to cross realms or universes or time, to a land which we  _thought_  was only make-believe, would you not want to see it?" She glanced at Mel, who still stood facing the windows, hands in jeans pockets, his head inclined a little in her direction. Mick's face betrayed that he was contemplating such a scenario.

She was in the middle of the room now, her hands suddenly animated as she embellished her words with exuberant gestures. "Just  _think_! Stepping into a world where magic is real, dragons live and breathe. Warlocks, mages, priests, shamans all capable of immense power! What if  _we_  harnessed such powers simply by being there?" Her eyes were wide as she saw them starting to warm to her vision. "Warriors, paladins.  Hunters with strange and exotic pets...You two would look so awesome by the way!"

     "As hunters?" Mel asked.

     "No, my pet," Mick smirked. Mel gave him the finger.  "Orcs, trolls, taurens," Mick continued. "Demons, forsaken,  _succubus_  -  _yes_!!" He did a hip thrust.

     "You're off your heads," Mel said with a smirk. He turned round to face them squarely.

     "Naga, hydra, banshees..." Bernie went on, undeterred.

     "Valkyrie, ogres, demon hunters!"

     " _Sylvanas_!" Mel finally joined in. The other two stared at him. Laughter. 

     "For the Horde!!" they all chanted. More laughter.

Mick eyed Bernie. "Drew's Alliance though, going by what I heard last night." He waited for her reaction.

Her laughter dissolved. "So?" her voice had a little tremor in it.

     "So you wouldn't be able to "play" with him, Bernie." Mick's lip curled up, almost like a sneer.

She turned away. She hadn't thought of that angle. Still, a fantasy land where anything can happen? Perhaps... "I would still take the chance," she said over her shoulder, before disappearing into her room.

Mel threw an apple at Mick, which he caught and took a bite before resuming his seat at the window. Once more glancing out over the city below, he pondered. "What do you think?" he asked Mel.

     "Are you  _serious_? She's got you pulled in as well?"

Mick looked back at him, mock surprise in his eyes. "You're the one lusting after Sylvanas."

Mel scoffed. "Game-lust ain't the same as thinking that somewhere out there's an actual place called Azeroth!"

     "Why not though? Perhaps we are all linked. Maybe the creators of fantasy worlds have been receiving some kind of communication from afar, bringing those worlds to our attention, but in a way where we think they are make-believe."

     "You want us to humour her?" Mel's eyebrows rose to his hairline.

     "Why not? Keep Bernie sweet. And just imagine, what a mind fuck it would be if it was real!" Mick's lips split into a slightly unsettling grin.

     "You're nuts, the two of you. I'm going out for a while. Catch you later. And don't torment her, Mick."  Mel left, the sound of the main door clicking shut echoing around the large, square entrance hall.

Mick continued munching on his apple, staring out the window. "Of course it isn't real," he said to himself, a little self-reprimand in his tone. He glanced at his apple, studying the teeth marks in the flesh of the fruit and the juice tricking down the little troughs they had created. "But imagine if it  _was_!" His tongue lapped the apple. He grinned again. A tiny part of him so hoped it was real.

 

 

☸

 

Mel strolled into Sounds, intending on jamming for half an hour or so with Frank, owner of the music store and Jimmy's father.  

At the entrance, the left window displayed the chart-topper and new releases of the day, dominated by a life-sized cardboard cut out of Adele to promote her latest album "25".  The right window had a mixture of instruments, and nostalgia depicting some of the classic bands and performers of yesteryear.  Posters publicising up-and-coming music events in and around the city ran up the edge of the windows nearest the doors. Folk, Jazz, Blues, Heavy, Middle of the Road, Pop, Rap all the way to Classical, nothing was not worth a mention.

Inside two rows of free-standing racks stretched to the middle of the store. Here practically every type of music was on display, from every era, style, a vast cross-section of artists, to appeal to almost every taste. Displayed according to the type of music first, then artiste, then album A-Z within each category. A respectable number of potential purchasers were dotted about the store in different sections.  It was kept immaculate, policed regularly by staff. Frank was very precious about his store and all in it.

To the right and almost halfway down was the counter with three tills. Behind it shelves, containing books, sheet music, music stands, strings for various instruments, kits for keeping them clean, capos, plectrums, carrying cases, you name it,  if Frank didn't have it, he would make a point of getting it.

At the far end was "The Stage".  Here punters could showcase their talent and hopefully make a purchase. There were regulars came in to practice and perform, Mel being one of them. It was carefully monitored of course. Frank didn't want neighbouring stores or indeed residents who lived above to complain of the noise. He had done his best soundproofing it, within regulations, but he still exercised on the side of caution and consideration. His efforts obviously worked, he'd been here thirty years now and had built a good reputation in the industry. 

Come the Fringe festival in August, the store was near impossible to get into at times. That was the one time, a little more noise  _was_  acceptable.

Jimmy, though he preferred playing folk music on his fiddle or bodhran, was also a good keyboard player, it having been the first instrument he learned. He could often be found accompanying Mel along with Frank. Today, however, he was taking stock and seemed well pleased with the interruption Mel's arrival created.

     "Hey!" he smiled as Mel approached.

     "Hi Jimmy," Mel replied, eyeing up the Fender Stratocaster sitting on a stand on the stage. "Whoa! When did you get that in?" he asked.

     "Couple of days ago," Jimmy answered. "Go on, give it your best."

Without hesitation, Mel picked up the guitar, caressing it like a lover. "How much?" he asked.

Jimmy winced. "Eight hundred and fifty."

 

**_Music: Sweet Home Chicago – Blues Brothers_ **

 

Mel grimaced. It was more than he could afford right now, but maybe in a couple of months... He started playing  _Sweet Home Chicago._

Jimmy grinned and jumped up to the keyboard on the stage to join in. Next, Frank came through from the back and picked up a Yamaha BB424.  It was hard to resist this.  He was a keen vocalist, and his husky tone was perfect for the song.  Before long they had acquired a drummer from the punters in the shop. The remaining customers all gathered round the stage dancing and clapping in time, and passers-by trundled in through the doors to enjoy the awesome sound. This was what Saturday afternoons were about!

The applause once they finished their rendition was well received, but the request for an encore was denied. Frank reminded Jimmy he had a job to do.

As Jimmy busied himself back to the stock take, Mel plucked away on the Stratocaster, reluctant to surrender its dark thick tones and tremolo as it moulded into his abdomen thanks to the belly cut design in the back of its body and the feel of the smooth satin neck.

     "Bernie enjoyed herself with your friend," he said as Jimmy continued jotting down numbers on his form clipped to the board in his hand.

The dreadlocks over his shoulders and down his back rippled as Jimmy laughed out loud. "Tell me about it! Thought they would never be quiet. She looked ecstatic when she left anyway."

Mel smirked. "Aye, she was still grinning when she got in the flat."

Jimmy continued his tally.

     "So, this Drew. What's he like?"

Jimmy turned to face him. "Are you getting all protective now?"

Mel shook his head. "No, just making conversation."

     "Really?"

     "Yeah, Really!"

Jimmy laughed and turned back to his work. "He's a good guy," he said. "Suffering a bit just now though I think."

     "Oh? How come?"

Jimmy turned to face Mel again. He lowered his voice a little as if sharing a secret. "Don't say anything to Bernie, in case she takes it the wrong way, but, he was keen on someone and she's just upped and fucked off."

     "Oh. Why?"

Jimmy turned back again to the stock, and he checked the number of various guitar straps hanging on the wall on long metal hooks. "Don't know really," he said over his shoulder.  "She was in a bad pile up about a month, maybe five weeks ago. So whether that made her decide to move away or not, I honestly couldn't say. But I think Drew's kinda hurt about it."  He returned to counting more items hanging on hooks. He stopped suddenly then once more turned back to Mel.

     "Funny thing though. A week ago I was trying to get Drew on the phone to remind him of last night and I got these really weird noises every time when I rang his mobile."

     "So? Static? No signal? Dead?" Mel continued strumming.

     "No, nothing like that. I recognised the sound but I just couldn't place it.  Until last night."

Mel's eyes focused sharply, he stopped playing the guitar. "What brought it to mind last night?" The question was drawn out.

     "This is gonna sound weird, but when we were all talking about gaming and role-playing when in the pub, Drew described his character in battles and stuff and being on board an Alliance ship, remember?"

Mel slowly nodded his head.

Jimmy laughed and shook his head as if still trying to understand it, his dreadlocks flicking back and forth as he did. "Well, that's exactly what it sounded like. The engines of a flying ship in Warcraft whirring round, you know? And metal, grinding kinda like those fel-reaver things."

Mel laughed quietly to himself. Now  _he_ was starting to wonder, even though it was utterly impossible.  But, perhaps Bernie wasn't such a dreamer after all.  


	6. Proud Father

     "I can  _do_  this!" Khadgar said, deep concentration in his eyes and the tip of his tongue just poking out from his lips.  This was a  _major_  task.

Carefully, he tucked and folded the cloth nappy around Ocel's little bottom and privates. Ocel chortled and kicked his chubby legs as his father almost finished his third attempt at dressing him in a nappy. The first two had failed miserably, with Khadgar's rugged face turning white due to the talcum powder application being a little too generous. A cloud of the white powder had resulted in the Archmage having a coughing fit. Tears from the exertion tore tracks down his powdered face, making him look like a zhevra, a cross between a zebra and unicorn, but he was determined to succeed.

Sarah stood grinning beside him. "It's not origami Khadgar," she said, not unkindly.

     "Ogrim –  _what_?" his brow furrowed but he did not look away from his handiwork.

     "Origami, the Japanese art form of paper folding," she said knowing only too well his enquiring mind would soon make him ask what Japanese was, so quickly she continued. "Your hands are wonderful at many things darling, but putting on nappies is not one of them." She lay a gentle hand on top of his awkward fingers.

A look of defeat crossed the Archmage's face. Sarah took a towel and gently wiped away the fine coating of talc, uncovering his handsome and weathered features. "Never mind, you can fumble with  _my_  panties later," she said, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Khadgar's steel orbs widened and a big grin crossed his mouth. "So  _soon_?"

She pushed the towel into his chest and shooed him aside. "I'm  _kidding_!" she said. "Give a woman time, why don't you. I just gave birth a few hours ago." Seeing his sheepish expression, she laughed lightly and added. "Panties are one thing dear, you'll have to wait to fumble with anything else. But soon - if you're a good boy."

He continued wiping away the talc on his cheeks, the lines round his eyes crinkling from his soft laughter.

Sarah loved teasing Khadgar. Over their months together, the bond between them had simply went from strength to strength and humour had been one thing which had truly surfaced. He was still prone to being a little too serious at times and she could counter that no problem. There was a time and place for his stern and powerful presence, and their home was not one of them. While he was with her, he was under no delusion, he had to be tender, attentive, supportive, tolerant and  _fun_. None of these things had proved difficult for him however, he was more than happy to be all those things for her. He was indeed a loving and caring partner and there was also much laughter in his soul.

She equally understood there were times his duties required him to be elsewhere, or if at home, time in his study could have no interruption. She would take him some refreshments but always respectfully knocked on the door before entering. This she did without thinking, it just seemed a natural way for her to demonstrate her understanding of the importance of his work. He had told her there was no need to knock, but she continued doing so regardless.

His eagerness to do things for Ocel was utterly touching. While it was commonplace on Earth for a man to be so hands-on with raising his family, it seemed that on Azeroth a father's involvement to that degree was quite rare. In fact, it was practically non-existent. Until of course the child was old enough to have a sensible conversation and ready to learn certain things that would start them on the path to adulthood. In other words when they were ready to leave home and earn a living.

But then again, Khadgar was no ordinary man. He was of course, highly intelligent, exceptionally learned, a master of arcane, frost and fire. Equally, he was a great diplomat, an exemplary ambassador with the perfect manners.  He possessed charm. Also a very wicked sense of humour (when he allowed it to be displayed). Insatiably curious and a diligent investigator he was still a courteous listener and an impeccable advisor. He was reliable, strong, trustworthy. All the things necessary in fact for one in his position really. And of course, for Sarah's pleasure only, he had proved to be an eager and prolific lover.  

But a nappy changer? Nope.  Definitely  _not_ something on his resume. 

He watched with silent admiration as Sarah managed to make the nappy fit snugly on little Ocel. Her practice with Caeniir paid off. He watched her face as she tended their son. What a wondrous thing motherhood was. She glowed, and not from her demon markings, for once. 

Sometimes, when he watched her, he found himself overcome by how beautiful she was. Not merely physically, but inwardly too. There was a generosity and a deeply caring side about her that was almost tangible. Laughably peppered with her little profanities now and again. He had noticed, however, that she clapped her hand over her mouth if an expletive slipped out in Ocel's presence. It was almost cute.

But it was her eyes, so full of emotion when she looked at their son which had Khadgar falling in love with her over and over again. And when she turned those eyes to look at him, she took his breath away. What he felt for her was so profound and pure, that sometimes he felt an intense ache in his chest, as if his heart was swelling from so much love, he could barely withstand it. It was the one thing he did not feel the need to place under a microscope to understand, he was perfectly happy with the situation.

She still looked tired though, and he did question her wanting to get home so soon after giving birth. She insisted she was fine and it was nothing a little sleep in her own bed wouldn't sort. She hadn't slept though. 

He moved next to her and slid an arm around her waist and placed a soft kiss on her cheek. She made a little contented sound and nuzzled against him, as she held Ocel, who had fallen asleep in his mother's arms. Khadgar smiled at his son. He felt such pride as he looked at him. His legacy lay in the land of dreams, safe and secure in their parental care and love.

     "Next one will be a sister for you," he said under his breath. It wasn't as quiet as he thought, however.

     " _Next_  one?" Sarah laughed lightly.

He smirked. "You caught me. I didn't mean to say that aloud."

Sarah turned to face him. With Ocel cradled in one arm, she caressed Khadgar's cheek with her free hand. Their eyes met. "I love you," she said.

The Archmage's eyes dilated and his lips parted ever so slightly. He inhaled deeply, trying to curb his natural response to her tender words and touch.

 

 

The twitch at the corner of her mouth let him know she understood. "You are still my every waking and sleeping thought, the air I breathe, my pain and my joy. Although..."

He knew what she was going to say. She didn't disappoint. "...You have serious competition now." She lowered her eyes to the sleeping babe, then raised them back up to Khadgar.

They laughed softly together before his mouth caressed hers.

     "Will I put him in his crib?" he asked.

     "Yes," she replied, surrendering Ocel to his proud father.

He cradled him for a few moments, still as amazed by him as he was when he laid eyes on him for the first time. He gently kissed and nuzzled Ocel's brow before placing him in his crib.

A knock echoed through from the entrance hall. Khadgar had just put Ocel down. He draped the soft netherweave blanket over him then turned to Sarah. "Shall I tell them to come back another time?"

She sighed and smiled. They had expected well-wishers to come by soon. She shook her head. "No. It would be unkind. I think they have been waiting for this as much as we have."

Khadgar smiled and putting his arm around her, led the way through to the living room. Sarah waited there while Khadgar went to answer the door.

Erik stood, stretching himself to his full four foot ten stature, holding a parcel wrapped in blue and silver paper with a blue ribbon wrapped around keeping the contents secure. Behind him, Lukha, Taril and young Caeniir.

Khadgar smiled. "Welcome everyone, come in."

Erik nodded a greeting to the Archmage but immediately strutted his way forward, heading straight for Sarah who waited beside the sofa to greet her visitors. He held up the parcel. "It's no much, but ah wanted to bring summat fur th' wee yin."

Sarah smiled broadly as she accepted his gift and surprised him by planting a small kiss on his cheek. "Thank you Erik."

She peeled away the wrapping to reveal a pair of soft leather baby shoes, the cutest little leather jerkin and a baby sling. Sarah was astonished at the last item, for she did not think those would be available in Azeroth. She was right, as Erik explained. "That's a thing ah thought o' a wee while ago," he pointed to the sling. "Ah wis jist sittin' wi' a mug o' ale and it came tae me. Summat fur the parent to wear to haud the bairn whilst leavin' yer hands free tae dae whitiver. So ah drew the thing up an' got Simon Tanner in Old Town, tae make it."

     "It's ingenious," Sarah smiled, deciding not to let on about their abundance back on Earth. "This could be a lucrative little sideline for you Erik."

The dwarf beamed, puffing his chest out. "Ah kinda thought o' that mesel', lass."

     "Everything is wonderful Erik, thank you so much." She passed the things to Khadgar who was equally impressed by Erik's invention and gifts.

Lukha stepped forward with her gift. Mittens, booties, a rattle and shawl. They were beautiful. Sarah and Khadgar thanked them again for their kindness.

     "So whar is he?" Erik asked.

     "He's just went to sleep," Sarah told him.

The dwarf was noticeably disappointed and started scuffing his feet on the wooden floor. "Ah, a'right. Another time then."

     "I didn't say you couldn't see him," Sarah smiled.

Erik's eyes sparkled, and he eagerly nodded his head. They all followed Sarah through to the nursery while Khadgar saw to some refreshments for their guests.

Erik's chubby fingers curled around the spars of the crib as he peered in on the sleeping babe, while Lukha and Taril loomed over him.

     "He is beautiful," Lukha said. "A very handsome boy indeed."

     "He will be strong," Taril said. "I can tell by his hands. I think he will be a paladin like his namesake."

     "Well hopefully he husnae got his faither's tetchiness," Erik said, a chortle escaping him.

     "I can teleport you anywhere I choose, dwarf," the voice came from the doorway. They all looked up to see Khadgar leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed with an amused expression on his face.

Erik grinned. "There! Ye see? Tetchy."

They all laughed softly so as not waken Ocel and then they turned to go back into the living room.

They only stayed long enough to offer their congratulations and enjoy a refreshment. Lukha knew only too well that Sarah would be tired. Indeed, now the new mother was struggling to stay awake. They all bid farewell and said they would come another day.

As Khadgar closed the door behind them, Sarah's eyes finally closed. He lifted her and carried her through to their bed where he lay her down and covered her with a blanket. She stirred momentarily, her hand resting on his arm. She was about to speak, but Khadgar hushed her. "Don't worry, I' m here. If Ocel wakes and needs to be fed, I will come get you. But for now, my love, sleep." He kissed her brow and she drifted off into a land of dreams.


	7. A Spiritual Amalgamation

Drew had decided to let the 1.30 train go. Not through choice, however. On his way to the train, an unexpected and overwhelming sensation almost made him pass out on the steps down into Waverley Station.

Unable to gauge the time it took, but assuming it was mere seconds, he'd felt as though something had passed straight through him. Or to be more accurate -  _invaded_ him. He'd had no warning, no visual confirmation of anything coming at him, but he most definitely felt it. 

His body was subjected to a series of involuntary spasms. His vision blurred and his viewpoint changed entirely.

**_Music: Divine Ancestry composed by Adrian von Ziegler_ **

He seemed to be rushing past an alien looking forest; tendrils, globules, floating viscous matter all wavering in front of him. He thought he was about to collide with some of the weird foliage and he mentally swerved to avoid it. He approached a dark mass, obscured by some hazy film which rippled and billowed. Nearing it, he noticed it was a pulsing, throbbing, glistening object with tubular connections running from it, joining up with some of the wavering tendrils. 

For a few seconds he floated in front of the strange mass until with a sharp jerk, he found himself hurtling down, thundering through a moving sea of fluorescent spheres, tubes, fern-like objects. He veered to the right as an off-white ledge protruded in his path. He glanced back. Was that - was that  _bone_?

He was sent spinning, tumbling uncontrollably, shifting more to the right then down - still down. A feeling of claustrophobia started to build as the edges around him narrowed. Edges of... _what_ exactly? Walls? No. 

He focused hard to try and determine the substance. It had a soft appearance, almost like... tissue. Flesh.

His vision cleared and he spun round, staring at all the suspended, swirling matter. This was no alien forest. These were not mysterious flora or foliage. They were cells. Arteries. Veins and capillaries. No. This was impossible!  _Dear god, I'm inside my body!_ His mind screamed.

 

 

 

Projected violently upwards he was forced through filaments, fibres, streams of multi-faceted utricles and antibodies. He was bounced and buffeted off muscle, sinew and spongey organs at an alarming velocity.

Then once more his trajectory slowed. In disbelief, he recognised the inner workings of a body.  _His_ body, he was sure. Kidneys, liver, intestines, lungs, the heart. But, disturbingly most were damaged, torn, mutilated as if he had undergone a horrific accident or attack. The sight alarmed him. He grimaced, as he then witnessed them knitting back together, becoming whole.

Upwards again, the speed slowly increasing. Light in the distance, growing rapidly brighter. Ribs, like the ladders to the outside, shot past as the distance to the looming glare lessened.

Then...dazzling, blinding brightness hit him. It felt like he had been ejected from his own body. His knees buckled and the experience had left him almost hyperventilating.  _Whoa_! he thought, truly shocked to his core, eyes bulging.  _What the fuck was that and where the hell did it come from?_

People witnessed him clutching his stomach then grabbing his legs as they gave way, unable to support his weight any more. One hand reached frantically to the iron railing beside him. Finally, his fingers clutched on. His other hand grabbed his face then moved to the front of his shirt. He looked like he was having a seizure - yet, people gave him a wide berth. Avoided him.

His trauma had been akin to an indescribable force penetrating, exploring, familiarising itself with its ...  _host_. He could get no fix on what it was, nor whether it was friendly or hostile, for the sensation simply vanished as suddenly as it had manifested. But he sensed there was something. Deep. 

His skin tingled, as it did in the aftermath of paresthesia, pins and needles, but it covered all of him, not just appendages. His face felt particularly strange for a moment as if part of it was shredded, exposed. Just as he had experienced internally the sensation of it mending was defined by a persistent tingle. 

It had been a truly unnerving event, unlike anything he had succumbed to before - and hoped he never would again. He quickly scanned himself. Everything seemed intact.

Keeping his head down, glancing through strands of his hair, he noticed the questionable looks of wary passers-by. They no doubt thought him drunk or high, or both. Last night he was yes, but that was not the cause of his leaning against the wall, clinging to the cold iron railing for support now. It had been a terrifying, invisible violation of his body. But he also felt utterly ridiculous being incapacitated in such a public setting.

With one hand on his chest, wringing the fabric of his shirt through clenched fingers, the other remained clamped to the railing. He gulped air and tried to steady his breathing by counting slowly to ten over and over. He had not the slightest clue what had just happened, yet he was distantly aware something had changed. But what?

A couple of women shoppers stopped, cautiously, to his left. His eyes flicked nervously towards them, then he resumed staring back down the stairs.

"Hey! You –you okay?" the one nearest enquired as she pulled her shopping bag closer to her body. The woman expressed concern, though wary of him. She had a kindly face, with her bobbed blonde hair rippling in the through-draught that blew up from the station platforms. She combed wayward strands over her ear as she looked at him. Casually, but smartly dressed, the cut of her clothes suggested she was probably from the cream of earners. Her friend, younger and similarly dressed but sterner looking, stayed further back, obviously suspicious of the young man with wild eyes looking out from under shoulder length hair.

He made a conscious effort to regain some composure. Again he swallowed and his tongue quickly coated his dry lips. He was at a loss. The women inched back as he tried to straighten. "I'm – I'm – Yes! Thank you." He stammered. "I – I get major panic attacks now and again, that's all." 

They didn't look completely convinced. "Station," he said pointing towards the entrance of Waverley as he still gasped. "Going down there sets me off too. I'm trying to overcome this irrational fear."

The woman noticeably relaxed. She stepped closer and tentatively raising a hand, she touched his arm. "Can we get you anything? A coffee, or tea?"

He smiled fleetingly. He hated himself for lying to them but he may as well be convincing about it. "Thank you, but I think it was coffee that started me off in the first place. Too much and too strong."

"Ah, of course. Can we call anyone for you?"

"No. I'll be fine in a few minutes. But - thank you. I think most people assumed I was under the influence of something stronger than caffeine." He barked a laugh, still exhausted from the invasion. "I'm sorry if I frightened you."

His acting skills proved Oscar-winning and the woman smiled and nodded sympathetically. After ensuring he was going to be alright, the well-to-do women went on their way. He watched them as they ascended the stairs towards Princes Street.

He looked at his watch. Almost 1.30. By the time he'd manage to stagger down the remaining steps, get his ticket and wobble to the platform he would miss the train anyhow.

Somehow, and he knew not why, that bizarre, alarming and embarrassing episode denoted an imminent return to Azeroth. This being the case, he considered that he should perhaps make certain purchases. The  _big event_  no doubt would be soon if not already passed. Though, he had not the slightest idea what to get. What the hell did he know about buying baby things?

A tingling sensation started against his chest. At first, a flare of panic seized him as he thought the strange affliction was starting again, but as his hand went to his chest pocket, he was relieved to find it was only his phone, on vibrate. He fished it out of his inside pocket, nearly dropping it and stared at the screen. He didn't recognise the number. Probably some annoying sales call. He considered dismissing it. Just as he was about to hit "ignore" his thumb pressed "answer" instead. Reluctantly, he raised it to his ear. "Hi."

"Drew?" A woman's voice sounded.

It was vaguely familiar. It took him a moment. "Bernie?"

"Yeah! I'm impressed you remembered." A small laugh came next.

He wasn't quite sure how he felt, hearing from her so soon. Hearing from her at all, to be honest. Yet he was strangely glad he did, too.

"Erm, so – how are you?" he was struggling to think what to say. A flash of guilt. She had certainly interested him last night, he should at least make an effort not to sound so...indifferent.

"Tired." She said, a little giggle still in her voice. "You on your way home yet?"

He pondered on telling his second lie of the day but decided against it. "No. Actually, I was considering doing a bit shopping, but the truth is..." he felt dumb now. "I don't know what to buy."

Bernie gasped at the end of the phone. "Well, what are you needing?"

He looked up as the two women who had stopped to offer help came back down the stairs towards him, more bags in hand. He nodded and raised his hand in greeting, feeling very sheepish at the same time. The bobbed woman smiled and nodded back while the stern one still looked like she was sucking a sherbert lemon.

"Erm, baby clothes. Or maybe toys, I don't know." He watched the women as they disappeared along the raised platform towards the next set of stairs leading down to the trains.

Silence at the end of the phone. Then, "You have kids?" There was a distinct bitter tone in her question.

"No! It's for my friend. Her baby will be due soon - if she has not already had it, that is." He cringed. How dumb did that sound?

There was an audible sigh at the other end. "You need a hand?"

He was about to answer  _No_  when he caught his breath. That actually sounded not a bad idea. A woman would have a better idea than he did certainly. But, was it fair to her? He didn't want her to think...

"No strings," she said as if reading his mind. "I'm just at a loose end too."

He smiled. "Sure. Okay then."

"Where are you?"

"Waverley entrance on Princes Street."

"I'll be about twenty minutes."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Bye."

"Bye." He hit End.

Sighing deeply, he wondered if he'd done the right thing accepting her help. And when did he give her his number? He didn't usually do that. He normally collected their numbers, yet as far as he knew he hadn't even done that with Bernie. He had been high though and pissed, so remembering everything was impossible.

He glanced up, then down, and back up the stairs again. At least that weird moment of utter immobilisation seemed to have passed completely. He put his phone back in his inside pocket, checking that the other item inside was still safe. It was. He never went anywhere without it now.

He crested the stairs to the buzz of Princes Street. The never-ending stream of traffic wound its way around the one-way system pausing only when the traffic lights ordered a halt. Bodies poured out over the crossings, hurriedly trying to reach their next destination.

Hundreds of voices merged into an unintelligible thrum drowned only by the engines of passing traffic and a whirr on steel as the trams trundled along the central section. Horns of impatient drivers blasted sometimes causing a pedestrian to jump.

From the rainbow coloured and weird combos of youth to the sedate neutral or darker shades of clothing worn by those of a certain age, pedestrians pushed and sidled for supremacy on the pavements. The pristine suits with starched collars strolled or strutted by. The odd individual staggered and swayed, trying to negotiate the oncoming rush and "strange cracks" on the ground.

The dangerous ones, however, were those who pushed buggies or trundled by on mobility scooters. Those were the ones you watched out for, or your toes and shins often suffered the wrath of metal wheel frames and carriages.

In the distance, the reedy trill of a lone bagpipe played in the gardens – not everyone's idea of a musical interlude. Tourists, of course, hungered for it. There would most likely be a gathering around the piper in the gardens, with cameras excitedly clicking and some idiot trying to do the Highland Fling even though the melody was a lament. The adults would be standing about with great big grins on their faces, pointing at the tartan debating which clan it represented, as no doubt the piper would be in full regalia, while their brats of children would be running along the paths terrorising the ducks and squirrels.  _The poor squirrels will probably be glad to get away from the droning sound of the pipes though_ , Drew thought with a smirk.

The sun was out, making it a pleasant spring day and the air carried the unmistakable smell of hops, which some people oddly likened to the smell of baked potatoes. Those in the know, however, knew it was the brewers in the city who added the fragrance and there were few places, centrally anyhow, where you could escape it.

A bench at the top of the steps with a lone pigeon pecking around its feet, offered a seat for Drew to wait for Bernie. He shooed the bird away. The last thing he needed was bird shit on his clothing. The action only attracted another two. He sighed and decided as long as they just dibbed about the ground his clothing should remain free of any avian deposits.

**_Music: The Fire performed by Rag 'n' Bone Man_ **

Twenty minutes could seem like hours when you were waiting for someone in the throng of a busy city, but he was pleasantly surprised to see sixteen of those minutes had already passed. When he looked back up, he caught a flash of bright red hair coming towards him, swimming against the tide of pedestrians. The hair was silky and gorgeously long.

He pushed himself up from the bench. His recollection up until then had only been the red hair, various facial piercings and ring encrusted fingers, but he had forgotten how striking she really was. From the mass of bustling bodies she appeared a few feet from him, wearing a white vest top, trendy slashed skinny jeans on legs that stretched all the way to her neck, leather ankle boots, a broad studded belt and a bag slung over her opposite shoulder so the strap of it lay between her very lovely breasts.

Drew caught himself exhaling at length. Déjà vu washed over him, yet he couldn't pinpoint the moment. This woman was hot. Something in the back of his head questioned that he should even be thinking this way because...  _because what_ , exactly? A memory seemed lost. Yet hundreds more in a murky pool remained to be awakened. He shook his head as if to rid himself of confusing thoughts.

Inwardly, he also prayed his brain would remain in his skull and not slip down to his groin again. The one-eyed monster still had a bad habit of waking up at inopportune moments. Bernie's smile, warmly familiar, was threatening to make the beast stir. He groaned and tried to think of something really dull. Baby clothes! There, problem solved.

"Hi!" she said, her cherry lips curled into a broad and friendly smile. Those lips! So familiar.

"Hi," he replied. "So, you're going to offer me your expertise in choosing things for a baby?"

"Sure. Boy or girl?"

He hadn't thought about that. He laughed at his absurdity. "I have no idea. To be honest I don't know whether she has had it yet."  _That didn't sound any better this time round neither_ , he inwardly cringed.

Bernie hitched her pierced eyebrow and bit her lip, gently catching the small stud that adorned it. "Call her. Find out."

And this was where he knew it had been a bad idea to let her come along. Soon, he found another lie spilling from his mouth. "I tried, but either her phone is dead or she's possibly in labour as we speak so..." He shrugged. That was ridiculously easy, he thought.

"What about her other half then?"

"Likewise – as in unavailable I mean. Probably due to hospital rules?"

There was something about the way she looked at him that suggested she wasn't buying it, but it melted away as she linked her arm with his, and pulled him towards the crossing. "Then neutral colours it is," she said, smiling up at him.

He smirked. Stirrings were threatening again. Telling lies via one's mouth was easy, but trying to lie from other parts of your anatomy was trickier. Nappies and rattles, he told himself. Problem solved yet again.

She took him to GAP. She gave him the basket to carry while she piled in two each of romper suits, baby grows, hats, packs of socks and bibs, cardigans, hoodies, booties and a teddy.

Drew looked at the contents once Bernie seemed satisfied that was all. It was considerably more than he had planned, but he couldn't help but smile. The items she had chosen were cute and practical. Miles better than any effort he would have made by himself. They went to the checkout where the sales assistant happily put everything through the till. She made polite conversation while they waited for the bagged up goodies.

"Oh, this is so sweet," the assistant said holding up one of the romper suits. Drew noted her name tag, Fiona. "I bet yous are real excited." She said.

Drew's eyes snapped quickly to Bernie who was grinning and nodding, then glanced across at Fiona. "Oh! You think that these are..."

"Yes!  _I am_  anyway!" Bernie injected, giving Drew a sideways smirk. Then she jerked her head at Drew and mouthed secretly to Fiona "He's not though." She stood, rubbing her ridiculously flat belly. How the saleswoman even thought Bernie was the expectant mother Drew had no idea. He shook his head.

Fiona's eyes flitted between the two. A look of understanding crossed her face. She scowled at Drew.

Fiona finished putting through the last item. "That will be £198.95 then. Please," she announced. Her heavily kohled eyes held his gaze. He swallowed, stunned at the cost. The sales assistant, however, made it perfectly clear she was waiting for him to pay up without any protest whatsoever.

He removed his wallet and handed over his debit card. She told him to slot it in the pay point machine and wait for the instruction to type in his pin. He looked at Bernie to his left. She was standing struggling to suppress laughter, still rubbing her belly and pretending to have an aching back.

Fiona told Drew to remove his card. She handed the bagged items to Bernie while wearing a sympathetic smile on her face. "At least he's done this much I suppose," she said in a low voice to the red-head, before offering a black glare at Drew again. 

Bernie turned to leave moving quickly from the counter. Drew started after her but then had an afterthought. At the last moment, he turned and leaned over the counter to Fiona. "Don't know why you're giving me the dirty looks, it's not even mine! I'm the Prince Charming here, taking on someone else's - mistake."

He watched as her face suddenly changed colour and her mouth fell open. He fought the urge to grin in satisfaction and instead patted the counter relishing the moment. "But, it's quite alright, you weren't to know ..." he made a point of letting her see him checking out her name tag. " _Fiona_." The critical sales assistant looked duly chastised and Drew, quite cockily, left the shop. He hated people passing judgement on those they didn't know from Adam.

Back out on the street, he found Bernie openly laughing. Her free hand held her belly as she doubled over from her mirth. Drew walked up to her. "Where the hell do they get off with that kind of shit? And some customer service, that one!" he said pointing back into the shop. His eyes met that of Fiona's. "I ought to report you to your superior!" He shouted in. Fiona quickly disappeared to the side where she hid behind one of the displays.

"Oh come on, it was funny," Bernie said.

Drew snapped his head round at her. "Was it hell! Why did you even make her think like that anyway? Hell, I'm not that kind of guy. I would stand by a woman if I got her pregnant."

Bernie's laughter gradually subsided and she regained her composure. "That's good to know then. Especially after last night." She watched his face. He stood there, lips parted and utterly at a loss for what to say. 

Her laughter erupted again. "Oh for god's sake Drew! Lighten up. I was wired years ago." She turned away, exasperated at how serious he was and started walking away, carrying his purchases. He started after her.

"God, you're feisty," he said, catching up with her. She looked at him, a glint in her eyes.

"And you're gullible," she said.

"I am not."

"Yes you are."

"Not."

"Well, then you can buy me lunch." She veered off up a side street.

"Can't. I'm skint now, thanks to you." He pointed to the bags of baby items.

"No you're not, you have a credit card I saw it."

"Debit card actually, so yes, I am skint."

She stopped and looked at him, trying to make out if he was telling the truth. No humour in those brown eyes, she deduced. "Oh! Well then, it's on me, I guess." She started off again, Drew close behind. He was laughing beside her. She glanced sideways. "What!"

"Who's gullible now," he grinned.


	8. Portal

Drew and Bernie lunched and then spent the rest of the afternoon in the Princes Street gardens. She had bought a small loaf of bread to feed the ducks, geese and pigeons that frequented the gardens and the fountain. She also had some peanuts for the squirrels. The furry little thieves darted about picking up the nuts offered and the birds waddled, fluttered and pecked at the bread.

A cat appeared at the side of one of the shrubs. It slunk low and padded nearer to an unsuspecting squirrel. Bernie smiled and lightly touched Drew's arm to gain his attention. He turned to where she pointed. Her voice low she told him to watch the cat.

"She comes here every day," she explained. "Or so I believe anyway. She's always here when I come. Watch her though."

"She's after that squirrel," Drew noted, pointing to the grey which was busy stripping back the testa of a peanut to reach the precious kernel.

"Yes. The squirrels are fast too, don't worry. She is so graceful though, the way she moves, so lithe, so stealthily. I love watching her."

"I know," he breathed against her ear. She turned to look at him. For a heartbeat, there was a look of recognition, but it vanished the moment she turned her attention back to the cat. 

He had felt something too, utterly inexplicable. But, somehow, he just knew she liked watching the cat.

The feline stalked the squirrel for a few moments longer before sprinting at it. The squirrel was instantly alert and darted across the path to the safety of the trees and shot up the trunk of the nearest one. The cat reached the bottom of the tree. Instead of climbing as expected, she sat at the base, looking up and mewling, flicking her tail back and forth. Her prey had all but vanished in the lush canopy overhead.

Drew glanced at his watch. Time was getting on. He should really head home. So why was he reluctant? Since the episode on the train station steps, the urgency to get home had faded although the desire to get back to Azeroth had not. He'd found himself enjoying the company of Bernie. He was well aware that earlier that day he had not even considered seeing her again. He probably wouldn't have either, if she hadn't phoned him. There was no denying now, he felt very comfortable with this woman. And there was an air of familiarity. A vibe. A connection. Although what, he knew not.

She had noticed him looking at his watch. With eyes turned to the ground she sighed softly. "You're keen to get away aren't you?"

"I  _should_ be getting home, Bernie." He looked at her. Her hair rippled a little in the light breeze. "But no, I'm not keen to leave. I've enjoyed this afternoon." The words tumbled out before he knew it.

She lifted her eyes to his and smiled hesitantly. "You could stay another night. If you want to, I mean."

He didn't answer right away. The offer was clear.

He sighed. So much for his brain staying in his skull.

☸

 

He lay awake, an arm around Bernie as she slumbered next to him, her arm draped across his chest. He couldn't sleep. His mind swam in a torrent of strange thoughts and visions, along with others more familiar. There was an incomprehensible complexity to his memories since that incident at the station. He tried to push them aside. Although he couldn't sleep, he couldn't think straight either.

It turned out Bernie had been the most welcome company that day, though he could not quite understand why he had chosen to remain in the city when he should have been in Azeroth. Had he went home as planned, he would have opened a portal and be gone, just like that. But some strange phenomenon had rooted him here for another day.

The experience at Waverley station still puzzled him, and, if he was honest, frightened him too. It had been a tour of his inner body, but at the same time, it felt like it had belonged to someone else. And that someone had undergone an insurmountable amount of injury. Was it just some sort of side-effect from last night's indulgences? The dregs of a hang-over and a high? Again, trying to think about it was just too hard.

He glanced down at the redhead beside him. A smile curled on his lips. Fourteen hours earlier he didn't care less if he'd never seen her again, yet here he was, in her bed having had great sex and now she cuddled up to him. A recent memory tugged at the back of his mind. He'd felt guilt after the first time with her? But, why? And it wasn't as if Bernie had not been willing - both times, actually.

His eyes moved to his jacket, draped over a wicker chair near the window. Should he? Or should he wait until the next train and get to the privacy of his own home. That would at least be another five hours away though. The first available train wasn't until 5.45 and then it would be another hour and a half before he reached his front door. 

Time in Azeroth could span days in what was only a few short hours here. He had figured out by returning this weekend it should be around time for Sarah to have had her baby. At least he hoped he'd worked it out correctly. He was keen to see her again, and Khadgar, Erik and others. Again, there was a hint of something -  _different, changed_. It frustrated him losing these glimpses, but he tried to reason that perhaps they were not that important.

He'd left it long enough. It was the Spring break here, so he'd arranged a few days off anyway, but delaying his return was not an option. He had to get back to Azeroth.

Carefully sliding out from under Bernie's arm, he gently placed it on the pillow he vacated and started to quietly get dressed. He checked her before he collected his jacket and the bag of baby clothes. The bag rustled, he froze, glancing back over at the sleeping woman. She never stirred. Slowly, he moved to the door, praying it wasn't on creaky hinges. It opened quietly. He checked the hall for signs of life.

Her two flatmates had been in earlier. He'd quite liked Mel, he was a good musician and showed off his talents for a while as he chatted away easily enough. He told Drew he'd been down at Sounds that afternoon and there had been a really good session there with Jimmy and his dad, Frank.

Mick, however, was a different kettle of fish. He was mostly quiet. Sitting with his immaculate sculpted hair, his fingers steeple-jacked, he quietly watched the other three chatting away. He said the odd word or two, but generally, he just observed.

The group had engaged in another conversation about gaming and role-playing. Drew was a little guarded in his responses. He still didn't recall how much he had divulged the night before, but he was totally compos mentis now and protected his secret fiercely. Perhaps he imagined it, but he could have sworn there was a strong dislike aimed at him in Mick's eyes.

Now, however, all was quiet in the flat. He closed the door to Bernie's room, pausing long enough to make sure the soft click of the lock didn't wake her. Nothing. Good. He crept over the hall and into the living room, again closing the door carefully behind him. He put on his socks and shoes and donned his jacket. Making sure he had everything he needed, he dug into the inside pocket of his jacket. His fingers closed around what he needed and he pulled it out. 

 

 

 

 

The portal stone, made of felblood crystal and sargerite shards glinted in his palm. With one last look at the door behind him, he started to conjure the portal.

☸

 

Bernie's eyes sprang open at the sound of her door closing. She had pretended to be sleeping, for she thought he would do this.  _Hoped_  he would do this. Quickly, lithely, she got out of bed and dressed. Picking up a pair of sturdy ankle boots and a warm hoodie, she opened her door and peeked out to the hall. Her breath caught in her throat as a shimmering light started to bleed from under the living room door. It was real! He was making the portal!

She padded across to Mel's room. He was sleeping so she shook him. He lifted his head, about to speak when she shushed him by placing her fingers over his mouth. Her eyes were wide, excited. "If you want to go to Azeroth, get up now, but be quiet."

" _What_?" he mumbled behind her fingers.

"He's making a portal as we speak. I saw it's light under the door, and..." A sound like gallons of water swirling started to build. "Can you  _hear_  that?" she looked at Mel, her eyes pleading that he did. His head turned towards his open door. He nodded. "Then get up and get dressed.  _Quickly_!"

Mel threw back his duvet and started pulling on his clothes as Bernie scampered through to Mick's room. She met him half dressed already. Seemed he too had lain awake, waiting, hoping. He grinned at her. "This is going to be fun!" He grabbed his overcoat and together the three flatmates met at the living room door.   

 

**_Music: Evocation composed by Adrian von Ziegler_ **

 

They all looked at the floor, their eyes tracing up around the doorjamb as blue-green light shimmered and pulsed, growing brighter by the second. The sound of rushing swirling water steadied, maintaining an even frequency, almost hypnotic. Mick's hand grabbed the handle.

Mel suddenly guffawed, the other two stared at him. "Be a bastard if he's just watching a travel programme on the TV," he said, trying to contain his laughter.

Mick was seriously unimpressed; Bernie perplexed. Mick threw open the door and instantly, Mel's laughter ceased. There in the centre of their living room was a gigantic, spinning mass of blue and green. It reached to the ceiling, perhaps even further, it was hard to tell. It rippled, thrummed, warped. The sound frequency suddenly changed.

"Fuck! It's starting to close. Let's move it!" Mick said. 

 

 

 Both Mel and Bernie ran forward without a second's thought, followed by Mick who was shrugging into his overcoat as he moved towards the portal. They entered.

Inside, they were suspended, spinning, being pulled through, all sound muted similarly to when one's ears are plugged, about to pop. A look of both joy and fear played on Bernie's face. She had been right about Drew, he wasn't just talking about role-playing with his game characters. He had found a way to get to Azeroth. It  _was real!_

Mel's expression was one of complete amazement, staring at his hands, torso and legs watching the colours ripple over him as he tumbled forever forward. He was laughing again, this time from the euphoria of such a thing existing.

Mick's face was set with a quiet determination. How he had hoped Bernie wasn't just fantasising as she usually did. Her fuck buddy had proved to be the real McCoy however. This was going to be a great adventure. And no, he wasn't going to play nice. His role-play was going to be very different.

Without warning, they were vomited out onto soft earth and a loud pop indicated the closing of the portal behind them. They had been spat out near a dry and dusty road. Grassy hills and meadows stretched on either side. Cows meandered a few yards ahead of them, grazing on the lush greenery, omitting lowly sounds of contentment. The only other sounds were birds and the trickle of a small stream nearby. It was tranquil. The first impression was nothing spectacular, by all accounts they could have been somewhere in Scotland.

Mel shook his head, his man bun wobbling vigorously, becoming undone. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the light and shade around him. His fingers drove into the ground. He lifted them to his eyes and watched as dry earth filtered through his fingers. He caught sight of Bernie a few yards away to his right lying on a soft bed of grass. She was pushing herself slowly up into a sitting position, her red hair adorned with seeds, grass blades and miniature blooms. She turned her eyes to him. They smiled at each other. If nothing else, they had at least travelled through a portal.

A shadow loomed between them. Mick stood, brushing dust and dry earth off his overcoat. He clapped his palms together, ensuring no grit remained before he palmed his sculpted coiffure. Satisfied it was still looking good, he shrugged his shoulders and pulled up his collar. His eyes focused on something in the grass a few feet away. He smirked and went over to the object. A teddy bear. He stooped and picked it up.

"Give that to me!" A voice said from his left. Drew appeared, his carrier bag of goodies a little battered looking.

Mick looked at the teddy bear then tossed it carelessly to Drew. "Well hello to you too," Mick grinned, scanning the area around him.

"Why on earth did you follow me?"

Mick looked at him, feigning surprise. "Surely you mean,  _why on Azeroth,_  do you not? Where exactly are we anyway?" His face although attempting to look friendly did not quite successfully conceal the sneer that traced his lips.

"Elwynn Forest. And again, why did you follow me?"

"Why not!" Mick spat. "Is it your sole prerogative or something, pretty boy?"

Drew's mouth tightened. He had been right about this one. Smarmy, arrogant; definitely not a Drew fan. And potentially trouble.

Bernie came up behind Mick. She didn't understand why his tone was so aggressive. She glanced at Drew and gasped.

His eyes narrowed. "What's wrong?" Drew asked her, momentarily perplexed.

She seemed lost for words and stood, simply pointing at him. Again he asked what the matter was, she was unnerving him. "Your – your  _face_ ," she stammered.

Drew raised his hand to wipe his cheeks expecting to see blood. On inspection of his fingers, there was only green. Grass stains from his impact when he passed through the portal. He looked at her again, puzzled. She had turned her eyes away, blinking rapidly as if trying to remember something.

Drew dismissed it and looked back at Mick. The flatmate's rigid posture oozed disdain at the exchange between Bernie and Drew. He stood with a sneer still lingering on his face as he glanced at the redhead then back at Drew. "Say your goodbyes then children," he said.

" _What_?" Drew gaped. He was really starting to resent this guy's  condescending tone.

"Goodbyes?" Bernie asked, a look of confusion on her face.

Mick glared down at her. She had never seen that look on his face before. Inwardly, she cowered. "Yes, Bernie. I told you before..." he pointed at Drew. "He's for the Alliance. We are Horde."

Mel joined the group. His face was unreadable. "What's going on?" he asked.

"Your esteemed leader thinks he can survive here like he's a character in the game," Drew explained.

"Leader?" Mel asked. Mick shot him a dark look. Mel dismissed it. He wasn't intimidated by Mick. The truth was he thought he was a bit of a prick, but right now, Mick and Bernie were the people he knew best and having been together for over five years, he wasn't going to suddenly change allegiances. Especially not now they were in another dimension which reflected a make-believe world back home. He reasoned there might be safety in numbers.

Mick turned back to Bernie. "Now that you've fucked your way here, say your goodbyes. We've got what we wanted."

Drew glared at Mick then his eyes rested on Bernie. She seemed stunned but managed to stammer a response. She looked at Drew. "That's  _not_ what it was, I swear."

"Oh come now, Bernie," Mick said with a scoffing tone. "You were the one who got all fired up with his blabbing on about this. You were so convinced he was speaking about actual events instead of mere gaming that you convinced  _us_ , Mel and me, that it would be worth pursuing."

"It wasn't  _like_ that! Yes, I wanted to come here, but that's not why - you know - " she bleated, once more looking at Drew. His eyes held a hint of disappointment. Maybe even hurt. "Honestly, it  _wasn't_." She pleaded.

Mick kept going. "Weren't you the one who believed he was going to return soon? And wasn't it you who called him to meet up? You put down the snare, Bernie. Then you seduced him back to the flat, knowing pretty much or at least hoping, that if it was real, there was a high chance he'd try to return from there."

"Hey,  _hang on_  a minute..." Mel interrupted wanting to defend Bernie. Again, Mick shot him a look, then a wink as if it was all a ruse. Mel's brow furrowed. He wasn't sure what the hell was going on. Mick liked his dramatics, but he was being more than a bit cruel to Bernie. And to Drew. The guy had seemed okay to Mel, he didn't understand Mick's animosity towards him.

"Why are you being such a bastard, Mick?" Bernie asked, not afraid to voice what she thought.

"Am I? The truth may make me sound like that certainly." He inspected his overcoat for any stray specks of dirt or grass before his hard eyes turned back to her.

She was raging inside. Partly because some of it was true, but she had not used Drew as Mick was suggesting. Yes, she'd believed that his stories of Azeroth were more than game related. His details had been too precise, too personal. Well, she hoped, above all else. She looked back the man she had spent most of the day and night with. She really liked this guy. There was something so nice about him, so familiar, so ...  _safe_. But, with a growing sadness, she saw a look of disappointment and doubt building in his eyes. Mick was convincing it seemed.

"Please, Drew, I  _didn't_ use you, I –" she tried again to make him understand.

"Really? Sounds pretty much to me like you did," he replied. "Remember this, Bernie -  _Delicious!_   _Hope to taste you again. Maybe in Azeroth?"_  He watched her flinch at the words. "Go on the lot of you! See how well you fare. I know I'd be wasting my time trying to talk you into going back home."

"At least you got that right, Drew," Mick retorted.

With a shake of his head Drew turned to leave.

"Drew!" Bernie called out, taking a step forward. Mick caught her by her arm. She glared at him and wrenched her arm free before turning back to look at Drew.

He spun round to face her but kept walking backwards. "All the best. You're going to need it." His voice was etched with anger. Then he faced forward once more and took off at a jog.

Mick clapped his hands and looked triumphantly at his two colleagues. Bernie looked upset.  _She'll get over it_ , he told himself. Mel seemed resigned to their lot, standing with hands in jean pockets, waiting to hear what the plan of action was.

"Well then," Mick said enthusiastically. "Let's get our bearings."

"Drew could have helped there!" Bernie said tightly.

Mick took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. He was not prepared to listen to her moaning on about how Drew could have done this, Drew could have done that. He was gone. They didn't need him. They all played the game enough to know what was what here. Bernie seemed to sense what Mick was thinking.

"Do you know that his friend - who chose to stay here by the way - saved King Varian from dying on the Broken Shore?"

Mick and Mel stared at her. This they had not been made aware of. Bernie was smirking internally. "She also released Illidan Stormrage and nearly died in the process. He healed her and now, she is part demon hunter. She then went on to summon Azeroth to defeat Sargeras."

" _Really_?" Mick's cynicism was ripe.

"How can you be so contemptible when you are standing here, in Azeroth itself!" she barked at him.

"What else happened?" Mel asked Bernie, genuinely interested.

"Plenty, but that was the main things. She's pregnant now too."

"Drew's I take it? That  _is_ why he brought little presents with him I gather?" Mick laughed, but it sounded false.

"No, not Drew's."

"Whose then?" Mick's lip sneered.

"The father is Archmage Khadgar."

At that Mick erupted with laughter.


	9. Illidan, Lord of the Demon Hunters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains mature themes namely sexual content

The Felhammer, in Mardum.

The runecloth band flickered with green fel. Fluorescent flashes periodically shot out from the fabric almost in synch with the brainwave activity behind it. Its wearer was deep in thought. He sat on the high backed throne within the large room in the base of the demon hunter's hall.

He had adapted the space as his own living area. Furnishings were sparse, four armchairs, a couple of well-upholstered longues. A desk, its surface covered in maps of Azeroth, sat with an ornate chair tucked under it near the wide fissure in the rock face which served as a panoramic window. A few warm coloured rugs scattered on the floor banished the ominous feeling from the cold stone fortress. It was nothing compared to his more lavish surroundings in Suramar.

Having rid the city of demons, it had been returned to its former residents, the elves. But none were as they used to be. Few, in fact, had remained as their origins had preordained, nonetheless, they were welcomed and aided by the Illidari and those desperate to return to their long forgotten home. Nightborne, highborne , kal'dorei, quel'dorei, all clinging to names of days gone by, worked with the demon hunters to restore the city to something resembling its grandeur of ancient times.

Here in Mardum however, Illidan Stormrage pondered many things, from the trivial to the truly fantastical. But of late, he mostly revisited the past.

Imbued with the power of the celestial beings the naaru, and combined with his felblood, the great demonised night elf had abilities which no other demon hunter possessed. Other than one. But she was now dormant, retired so-to-speak, tending to the daily duties of parenthood.

The past few months had been relatively uneventful. Truth be told, even  _he_  felt a little... redundant. There had been the occasional stray demon still roaming around Azeroth, but they were easily despatched now. His army, still loyal to the cause and activated by the slightest sniff of a Burning Legion minion, policed all continents, rooting out the offensive creatures and sending them to the Twisting Nether. And once there, demon hunters who had passed from their time in Azeroth, also remained loyal and carried out their duty in the astral dimension of the Nether, killing the demons once and for all. It was the only place a demon could be truly extinguished.

_One day_ , he mused,  _one day there will no more demons to hunt or kill. Other than ourselves._  His heart sank at that last realisation. What purpose had he then? What purpose had his army? Or his wife?

He knew there was another enemy out there.  _The_  enemy.Somewhere. But, how long would it be before it dared show itself? How much longer before his legion could rise to glory again and engage in true battle once more? 

  

**_Music: Song of The North composed by BrunuhVille_ **

 

 

For the first time in thousands of years, Illidan thought he would have been better off as a simple elf, practising the art of druidism perhaps which those closest to him had once thought he would excel at. Back when he had amber eyes.

He huffed. Druidism was not for him, never had been. He'd favoured the lure of arcane, seduced by its awesome properties and potential he had indeed become a powerful sorcerer in his day.  _His day!_  He scoffed. What manner of thought was this? He was immortal. Every day was his day!  _Every_  day...

It was nonetheless a predetermined conclusion that he was becoming surplus to requirement and therein lay the bittersweet penance of immortality. A hundred lifetimes and more once spent planning ahead, building a new future, visualising a wondrous, Legion free life, but now, having defeated them, he found himself sitting wallowing in a reminiscence of days gone by.

He sighed as recollections of his past washed over him. He leaned heavily on the arm of his throne, fist supporting his chin as his mind swam within the past, stirring memories he had pushed to the farthest reaches of his mind.

Because of his mystical eyes, the elven nation had believed in a prophecy. That an amber-eyed child would be capable of great achievements. As he grew, he started out on the same path as his twin, Malfurion, learning the art of druidism. Malfurion was a natural and quickly grew in skill, spending most of his time training under the guidance of Cenarius, Lord of The Forest.

Illidan envied his brother and the attention awarded him by the patron of druids. Cenarius warned Illidan if he was not willing to apply himself wholeheartedly then he would never succeed. It required sacrifice, something, Cenarius told him, he knew nothing about.  _Hmph_! Oh, if only Cenarius knew exactly what he had sacrificed since. In order to bring Illidan in line, the patron told him he would no longer teach him and that instead, Malfurion, his own flesh and blood would take on his tutelage. That infuriated Illidan and he was insulted to the core.

As a result, his focus turned to other things. His growing curiosity in magic was fuelled by his insatiable need for arcane power. In this, his ability surpassed that of many others in the field of sorcery. His power grew at an alarming rate.

But Illidan had also known elves as a whole needed magic as a form of sustenance. During the War of The Ancients, he'd saw the Well was waning, its power being drained to fuel the portal which delivered the Burning Legion to Azeroth. His brother's immense druidic power worked to close the portal but this would destroy the Well itself. Illidan had been glad he'd had the foresight to rescue some of the magical waters. He stole seven vials of the precious fluid. His people needed this source of magic. His all-powerful brother had not thought of _that_!

Back then too, his heart had also beat for a certain huntress/priestess. Tyrande Whisperwind. He'd grown up with her, as had Malfurion of course, but Illidan had felt the stirrings of attraction to the priestess of Elune in their early years. He had tried often to impress her and capture her heart. It had seemed however, his ways were not to her liking. He was the brasher of the two boys, and she'd seemed to prefer the quieter nature of his druid brother. Still, Illidan was determined to win her over.

But, no matter what he'd tried, her eyes remained only for Malfurion. Illidan had never felt such pain as he did when he'd stumbled upon the lovers enjoying an intimate moment. He was left without any doubt that Tyrande's love burned for the druid. And in that heartbeat, he knew she would never be his.

Rejected in favour of his brother, Illidan had not taken the defeat of his heart well. He had become consumed by a need to prove himself better than his brother, in a vain attempt to show Tyrande she had chosen wrongly. Unfortunately for Illidan, all his attempts had only distanced her more and stirred doubt and suspicion amongst his people as to his true intentions for the elven nation.

As seemed Illidan's luck, others had not agreed with his ideas nor believed he'd had the best interests of his people at heart. They'd saw darkness in his deeds. His dealings with the Legion had come to light, although it had been greatly misinterpreted by his peers. Now his people saw only the runecloth bandage over his ruined eyes and the demonic markings on his body coupled with the heinous acts committed against his own kind. He was duly imprisoned.

A glimmer of hope came when none other than Tyrande had been instrumental in his release from prison. She had informed him that his help was needed in fighting the Legion and as it was, no-one knew the demon psyche better than him. Yet, in his attempt to defeat the demons, this time by consuming the power of the Skull of Gul'dan, she'd rejected him yet again. As did Malfurion, who exiled him.

Her rejection this time had cut deep. In a bid to erase her from his mind and heart, he took to bedding sometimes two, three women a night. But, with each new lover he took, Tyrande's face was always the one he envisioned as he pounded into the woman beneath or on top of him. He'd had plenty concubines over the years, all more than willing to be taken to his bed. But still, all he saw was Tyrande. He'd seemed destined to be haunted by her.

Until the day a particular young night elf female arrived in Hellfire Peninsula.

Illidan had engineered the capture of the then Lord of Outland, Magtheridon, a monstrous half man, half reptilian pit lord and servant of the Burning Legion. Illidan had him incarcerated within Hellfire Citadel. There, he steadily drained the creature for its felblood. The idea was to create fel orcs that would submit under the new Lord of Outland, Illidan himself, becoming part of his increasing army.

It had been when Illidan was leaving the underground pit of Magtheridon's prison, that he came across Arcaena. Or rather, she came across him. At the sight of him emerging from the secreted entrance, she had dared to confront him. Her intention had been to end the one called Betrayer, the one who had deceived her people and turned his back on them to serve the Burning Legion.

She had grown up hearing the stories of his despicable treachery, the way he stole vials of the sacred Well of Eternity and fed them into the pool on top of Mount Hyjal at Nordrassil. She was going to be the one who went down in history as the  _Slayer of the Betrayer._

He grinned as he recalled how indignant she was when he'd laughed at her. There she'd stood, poised, ready to thrust the killing blade into his gut. She'd come at him but he'd simply stepped aside and she'd disappeared into the secret entrance of the pit, having built up momentum from her lunge. Illidan's laughter taunted her and she'd tried again, hoping the shadows at the entrance permitted an advantage as he'd poked his head around the edge looking for her. Alas, he'd merely raised his arm and her blade was spinning in the air. He'd wrapped one of his wings around her, pulling her close, her back hard up against his chest.

As she'd struggled against his hold, he'd signalled to his lieutenants to restrain her and take her back to the Black Temple. He had kept her locked in a cage. He smirked at the memory. Oh, how she'd cursed him every time he'd walked within shouting distance.

He'd replied to her one day, "I am as cursed as I am going to get, so you should save your breath for more constructive criticism." He'd stood, arms crossed over his chest, glancing down at her. "And to save my ears from your constant screeching," he'd added, with mirth. At that remark, she had gone off on a tangent again.

Gradually, over weeks, she'd quietened, and eventually, although flanked by his guards, he'd allowed her out of the cage. It was under the clear understanding nevertheless, that she was to remain near him at all times. He'd promised no harm would come to her. It had been a mystery even to him as to why he treated her so.

Here was a woman who had grown up thinking she would end him, erase him from Azeroth completely. She had the temper of a cornered hyena and about as bad a bite too. He'd bit her back, however, although not as hard. Nonetheless, the shock in her eyes and, if he was not mistaken a little hurt, made him apologise immediately. He'd warned her not to bite him again. She dutifully kept her teeth away from him.

More time passed, and Arcaena, as he'd finally got her to reveal her name, readily followed Illidan around the Temple. He'd taken a huge leap of faith when he'd had to depart for Northrend and decided to allow her free reign in his chambers while he was gone.

He had returned badly injured, having been wounded deeply by none other than Arthas Menethil wielding his cursed blade, Frostmourne. He'd been surprised to find Arcaena still there, having assumed she would have tried to escape. His advisors informed him she had remained within his chambers all the time he was gone.

When she'd seen his injury she'd insisted on looking after him, shooing away all others, with the exception of the shamanistic healers.

In his delirium, he'd spoken of his determination to bring down the Burning Legion and all its servants. He'd mumbled about regrets at having taken good lives while in the service of Lord Ravencrest, but it had all been to deplete the forces of the Legion. He'd exacted a high cost using his willing aides but he'd believed he was doing what was right.

He'd even murmured Tyrande's name and how he'd wasted his affections all these years. His vain attempts at besting his brother were meaningless, pointless. He'd wanted to save his people, that's  _all_  he'd wanted to do.

This she'd relayed to him once he'd sufficiently recovered. She'd stayed by his side for days, checking his wound, changing bandages, administering medicines brought by the shamans, mopping his brow and wiping down his chest to keep the fever at bay.

When he had  _fully_ recovered, she'd told him that she realised her people had been narrow-minded in their teaching of the elven history and had done Illidan a grave injustice. She'd wept as she'd apologised for being so blind.

He'd gently wiped away her tears and told her that her change of heart meant much to him; that he'd wished more of his people could see the truth. It had been a remarkably poignant moment, one which led to their first kiss. She had seen him at his worst and still she wanted him.

She'd then surprised him by asking to become like him, a demon hunter. He'd actually heard himself protesting, explaining that not all survived the ritual and he did not want to lose her. But she'd pleaded, saying she had seen what the Legion had been capable of in neighbouring villages to hers. She had also heard numerous horror stories of the Legion's relentless destructive force from his followers residing within the walls of the Black Temple. She'd wanted to see what he did through sightless eyes and demonic infusion. She'd wanted to be part of him.

And on her last evening as a night elf, he'd lain with her, her warm and loving embrace removing any residue of Tyrande Whisperwind from his mind, heart and soul.

Over the next few days, she'd managed to survive the demonic ritual; admirably too. And since then, she'd fought fiercely by his side in many battles and had loved him wholeheartedly during the nights.

 

He was inexorably drawn back to the present. His heart clenched. What if, after all they'd been through, their end was nigh? The day of the demon hunter was coming to an end. Perhaps he should have stood his ground and refused to let her become like him. She would have still loved him, but she would have had a chance to carry on as a normal elf. Unless something happened soon for his armies to rally against, their existence would be invalidated. He thumped his fists on the armrests. He _needed_ something to do.

His spectral sight caught motion to his left. At first, it was just a shadow, the light from the floor above causing it to elongate as its owner progressed down the ramp. Between the gap separating the upper floor and the ramp's descent, a pair of slender ankles appeared. Their appearance was subtly demonised by the small hocks just above the heels. They bled into long athletic, well-toned legs, topped by rounded hips. The figure disappeared momentarily in the shadows at the base of the ramp. Seconds later, those hips and legs reappeared, topped by a taut, muscular abdomen with pert, full breasts. Runic tattoos rippled on the dusky blue skin.

Illidan groaned with desire as the figure sashayed her way towards his throne.

With one hand behind her back, the other at the base of her neck she loosened the ties of the top which covered her breasts. As her hands dropped back into view, the top fell away and fluttered towards the floor. It flipped and folded once it made contact with the plush blue, purple and gold rug, then stilled in a small, soft heap.

He was instantly aroused by the sultry, fluid gait of the approaching woman; his gaze falling to her breasts, free, bouncing softly as she walked. His runeband flared again as his vision drank in the figure of his wife, and first lieutenant Arcaena. His mouth curled at the corners, fangs catching the sliver of light from the window that looked out over the fel green, mountainous landscape.

She reached the base of his throne and seductively, knelt in front of him. Her breasts pressed against his knees and her hands on his thighs, slid upwards, slowly, teasingly. Her head tilted up to look at her husband, lover and master.

He traced a single taloned finger round her jaw, allowing the tip of a talon to rest on her succulent lips. "Arcaena." His voice was deep, husky, warm and filled with longing.

"Husband." She replied, her voice equally full of yearning. Her long fingers travelled up under the broad sash that belted his trousers and covered his arousal.

His mouth quivered as her hand worked its way under the fabric and encircled him, holding him firmly within her sanguine hibiscus-scented fingers. He moaned, shifting slightly to allow her better access. Slowly she worked him, caressing his length, teasing with her thumb. He watched her face, the melting smile of a succubus playing at the corners of her mouth. His vision dropped to her hand movement beneath the sash. It was intoxicating!

"Have you ensured we will not be disturbed," he breathed.

"Of course,  _my Lord_ ," Arcaena replied. Her fingers flexed upon him causing him to moan. The trademark lop-sided smile was moistened with her tongue, her intention clear.

Illidan undid the sash and pushed down the waist of his trousers, freeing himself completely. His large taloned hand cupped the back of her head and he steered her to him. Her mouth enveloped him completely. His head thumped back against the throne and he moaned as his wife pleasured him. What a beautifully wicked tongue she had. Her fingers kneaded his inner thighs, her thumbs brushing against his sac causing him to shudder beneath her touch, and deliver more of himself to her warm, eager mouth.

His demon tattoos flared as his seed stirred deep within preparing for its blissful journey. He turned his spectral gaze once more to Arcaena as her mouth rhythmically took him, heightening his desire with every downward motion and lap of her tongue. He leaned forward, his enormous hands sliding under her arms pulling her up, releasing himself from her oral embrace. He stood, lifting her with him. Stepping out of his trousers as they crumpled to the base of the throne he carried her towards a longue. Her legs wrapped around his waist, as his mouth crashed over hers. He was ravenous for her.

Laying her down on the cushions, he undid the fastenings of her leggings and peeled them off in one fluid movement. He knelt and pushing her thighs apart, he draped her left leg over his shoulder as he clasped her right ankle, holding her in place. Slowly, his tongue traced down her thigh, his fangs just grazing her skin and no more, as he journeyed towards her moist, glistening sex.

She gasped, her back arching from the cushions as he probed within, kissing and sucking the soft flesh noisily. She clutched his horns as his tongue urgently lapped and teased, inserting deeper. Her sighs turned into moans of undeniable pleasure as her husband drew her climax steadily to fruition. But before she was allowed release he heaved his body up over hers and entered her powerfully, fully; his length and girth causing her to cry out.

Her hands fell to his broad tattooed pectorals which flexed beneath her touch as his body drove into her. He was magnificent, all muscle and power yet attentive amidst his fierce passion for the woman he loved deeply. Her wings trembled as her release approached the point of no return.

Skins became coated in a thin film of perspiration making the demonic markings glow even more luminous. With a bestial roar and his demon-hide membranes snapping out to their full wingspan, Illidan's seed flowed, pouring into her, her own release escaping with an anguished cry.

 

 

 

The mighty demon hunter trembled as his thrusting slowed, his breathing hot and heavy, wings encompassing the woman beneath his muscular frame. Illidan's face levelled with Arcaena's. "Wife," he said softly. "I can never get enough of you."

Arcaena's lop-sided smile graced her lips. "Nor I you,  _my Lord_." She tugged his ponytail playfully.

His mouth twitched. She used his title in moments of passion. She loved the connotation of his masterful presence owning her, possessing her. But in truth, it was she who owned him.

His mouth hovered over hers, the anticipation of a quick recovery with the promise of more wet and slippery passion was rudely drawn to a halt by a very loud cough from the top of the ramp. At first, Illidan considered ignoring the untimely interruption as he inhaled his wife's intoxicating scent, sanguine hibiscus mixed with the smell of her sex, hot, musky and incredibly erotic. A second, louder cough, however, made it clear his desire had to wait.

He grunted his displeasure. Folding the immense wings back, he sat up and gently swung his wife's legs round so her feet graced the floor. She stood, and as he placed a playful slap on her buttocks, she picked up her leggings before slinking off to the left of the enormous chamber. There, stood a Darnassian screen behind which a pitcher and bowl rested on an ornate dresser. She washed and pulled on her leggings.

Illidan strode over to the carved throne with its plush cushion and backing. He stooped and collected his trousers, then pulled them on over his powerful legs. Closing the ties he secured the sash in its place before he ordered the cougher entry. He had settled on his throne once more as he watched Kayn Sunfury descending the curved ramp.

Illidan smirked. Kayn had always been uncomfortable when Illidan and Arcaena were in close proximity to each other. His embarrassment at the slightest show of affection was noticeable by his awkward stance and lowered head. If he had heard them in the throes of passion as he was about to announce his arrival, Illidan doubted very much that he would have been able to enter the chamber at all.

The blood elf demon hunter obviously knew what his Lord and Lady had been doing. His forced posture and chin jutting towards the far wall indicated his discomfiture as he came to a halt in front of Illidan. It was then that the leader of the demon hunters noticed his wife's top still lying in soft folds on the floor, mere inches from where Kayn stood.

He had to suppress the laughter bubbling in his chest. Not only had Kayn been subjected to witnessing the piece of cloth which had once covered Arcaena's breasts as it lay on the floor shouting the obvious, but Arcaena herself, being topless, would not be able to come out from behind the screen until the second lieutenant had left the chamber. He was sorely tempted to pick it up and toy with it while Kayn gave his report, but decided that was perhaps a bit cruel and also a tad immature. It would have amused him though.

"So, Kayn, what is the report?"

Kayn cleared his throat before proceeding. His head still rigidly looking towards the far wall he spoke almost regimentally. "Northrend has had several sightings near Icecrown, mainly felhounds. They have been routed and destroyed. Infernals, abyssal and imps were terrorising Star's Rest in Dragonblight and Satyrs roamed Sholazar Basin. All have been despatched, my Lord. In Kalimdor a small number of darkhounds have been spotted amongst the hyenas of Uldum, but they too have..."

Illidan leaned on his fist as he listened to the all too familiar list of different continents' demonic clusters' and their indubitable demise. His demon hunters were diligent in their work and he had no doubt that they made every effort and even went beyond their call of duty to ensure that Azeroth was protected against any deluded demonic masses. As such, his mind started to drift off and his spectral sight once more came to rest on the piece of fabric on the floor which belonged Arcaena. She would be seething behind that screen now, he mused. It would be an immense pleasure in cooling her irritation after Kayn left the chamber.

"...but it is the portal that gives us great concern."

Illidan remained motionless.

"My Lord?" Kayn finally turned his bound eye sockets towards his leader.

The demon hunter shifted, suddenly aware he was actually being spoken to instead of listening to the lengthy report. "Portal?" he asked.

"Yes, Lord. There is definitely a disturbance behind the Dark Portal. One which we think is not of the Legion's making. The orcs who passed through seem to think that anyhow."

Illidan's long tapered ears pricked. He sat straight on his throne. "Orcs? What orcs?"

Kayn's posture relaxed slightly. "They were not Iron Horde, they were Frostwolf and they did not so much see anything, my Lord as...sensed something. Although it was faint, there was an ominous presence through the portal. Enough to cause the orcs to come through and attempt to warn us."

"Where are these orcs now?"

"We took them to Dalaran."

_Most opportune_ , Illidan thought. The leader of the Kirin Tor would be very interested in this development.

Archmage Khadgar had been attempting to neutralise the floating metropolis again, following the defeat of the Burning Legion. This had received a mixed reaction from many who heavily protested the inclusion of the Horde again to the city following the debatable fusion of the factions at the Broken Shore. The King of Stormwind had almost lost his life there when the Horde decided to flee. Granted, their own Warchief had been mortally wounded at the time, but a large portion of Alliance loyalists still saw the Horde's hasty retreat from the Broken Shore as nothing short of a betrayal. A sure sign they were not to be trusted. As such, Khadgar's determination to unite the factions still was not welcomed by everyone.

This recent development, however, required the Archmage's attention. "Have you sent word to Khadgar?" Illidan asked his second lieutenant.

"No, my Lord. I thought it best to confer with you first."

"Then you have an order. Go, tell him we must meet in Dalaran and speak with these orcs."

"Yes, my Lord." Kayn bowed, then turned and climbed back up the ramp.

Glancing over his shoulder Illidan spoke to Arcaena who still waited behind the screen, topless. "I will have you later, my love." He picked up the skimpy fabric and placed it on his throne. "Make yourself decent wife, we have business."

Finally, his interest was piqued. He almost smelled it in the air.

The Void.


	10. Going Once. Going Twice... SOLD!

 

  
  
  
Nestled in between the hills, the home of Erik Longmaster looked the same as the day Drew had left Azeroth. Strangely, it felt like he was coming home.

The chimney puffed out grey plumes of smoke which swirled and dispersed in the light breeze that whistled in from the mountains just north of its location.  The fields below were starting to burst with brightly coloured flowers and herbs. It had the appearance of a vast rippling, rainbow-infused carpet. Air currents danced up across the meadow imbuing the path to the cottage with the sweet and exotic scents of nature's perfumiers.   


A little distance from the cottage, a couple of fawns grazed in the company of a passel of hogs with their litters. The odd squeal from the younger pigs had the adults milling around them on the lookout for danger. All was safe and tranquil though. The bears and wolves would be further into the forest at this time of year if Drew's estimation was correct. He remembered it had been late summer when he'd left. Going by the foliage and the slightly cool air he surmised it was spring in Azeroth now. He had missed this little cottage and the surrounding Elwynn Forest, even though it had been less than a week in his time. 

  
The scene was somewhat marred, however, as he was still bristling from the exchange with Mick, Mel and Bernie. Especially Bernie. He'd been stupid enough to think they had a connection. What its root was, he had no idea, but he'd sensed something – something elusive yet trying to surface from the pit of his mist-covered memory.

  
He'd felt a particularly strong paroxysm in the gardens in Princes Street when they were observing the cat stalking its prey. There had been a glimmer, a ripple of some buried link with that moment and...  He shook his head, frustrated not only at not understanding it but also that he was bothering to deliberate about it at all. Bernie had been right about one thing anyway. He  _was_ gullible.

  
As he approached the front door of the cottage, two butterflies crossed in front of his face. Their sudden appearance startled him from his reverie and he lifted a hand to swat them away. As he did so he was rooted to the spot. His inner eye hurtled to another place and, he surmised, another time. 

  
He saw a man's hands holding a jar. They were  _his_ hands. No. They  _couldn't_ be. He did not recognise the moment nor the clothing, of which, granted, there was only a small amount on show, but most definitely not his attire. So it could  _not_  be him. All he could see were dark blue sleeves, of a jacket, most likely. It seemed to be finely tailored by what he could make out.

His attention focused on the jar again. It had a linen cloth top tied with a vine that was moulded into a handle for carrying. 

  
The hands passed the jar to someone else. A female going by the slender, elegant fingers. They hovered over a black dress which shimmered from tiny gems sewn into it. It looked expensive. There was something familiar, but what exactly? The setting? The jar? The woman? He desperately wanted to see the face those hands belonged to. Maybe then... 

  
The female lifted the jar. His breath caught in his chest, the anticipation of seeing who had been given this bizarre object... But, the vision honed in on the linen-topped glass once more. Inside were three brightly coloured butterflies. One of the female's hands reached out to the male's.  Fingers entwined ...

  
He staggered as his vision retracted with an almost audible whoosh and once more he was back in the present. He stared at his hand, still raised to swat the butterflies, which had long since fluttered over the path and down towards the meadow.

  
He was gasping. What he had just envisioned was no whimsical daydream. It felt so much more meaningful than that. It was like... like a  _memory_. But whose?  It was not one of his. His thoughts returned to the incident in the train station.  Had he somehow become host to someone's spirit? Was he possessed? An unnerving consideration indeed, but one which he attempted to cool by thinking that something as innocent as butterflies would not be associated with any objectionable entity, surely. He hoped not anyhow. 

  
Again he shook his head.  _What a ridiculous way of thinking_ , he chastised. Ghosts hitching a lift! Even in this fantastical dimension, such a thing was far-fetched. 

  
He straightened, flexed his neck and rounded his shoulders before continuing towards the door of the cottage. A sturdy wooden table with two benches tucked underneath sat to the left of the door. Upon the table was a quiver, half full of arrows and a splintered bow beside it. To the right and nearer the slope of the path, was the carcass of a boar, slung up in the centre of a sturdy tripod. Its throat was slit, a bucket below to catch the blood. He couldn't help but peer over at the family of hogs in the meadow.   _Hope this wasn't Uncle Hamish_ , he thought.

  
However, he knew Erik only hunted bigger game if there was a celebration occurring.  Suddenly aware of the battered carrier bag in his hand, he couldn't help but wonder if that celebration was a birth.

  
The sound of pots rattling came from within the cottage.  Drew moved to the door and was just about to grab the handle when the door shot open. He jumped back at the suddenness of it, dropping his bag of baby clothes and the teddy.

 

  
  
  
There in front of him holding a large frying pan was a fierce looking black-haired female dwarf. "Dinnae even think it!" she growled. Going by the glare in her eyes she had every intention of using that pan as a weapon.  
  
Drew held his hands up in surrender. While she was a good two feet shorter than him, his experience of the race told him not to underestimate the strength and ferocity of the dwarves. That was a particular consideration now as he was faced with this very angry looking woman armed with a sturdy cooking implement.

  
     "Honey, ah'm home!" A shout from around the north side of the cottage announced the welcome arrival of Erik Longmaster, Supreme Hunter and, thankfully, the good friend of Drew Stewart.

Drew glanced back at the woman in the doorway. She hadn't moved an inch, her stance informing him she still intended to clobber him if he so much as sneezed.

His eyes quickly turned back to the side of the house. He could hear footsteps crunching across the gravel.  It nonetheless seemed to take an age for the stocky figure of Erik Longmaster to appear from round the edge of the cottage. When he did, however, his abundant swatch of red whiskers rose on his face suggesting a broad smile.

     "Drew! Laddie! Yer back!" he shouted as he dumped the three dead rabbits he had been carrying near the corner of the cottage. He ran forward, holding out a hand in greeting.  He slowed as he realised Drew was standing in a manner that was akin to someone facing a fierce beast. Turning his head, he caught sight of the woman lurking in the doorway, frying pan still at the ready.  
  
     "Pit that away, Gwen! It's jist Drew."

The woman bristled but was still reluctant to down tools. Her eyes darted between Erik and the tall young man in the black leather jacket. " _Jist Drew_  he says! Well, he could huv bin onybody!" she grumbled. "Comin' tae ma door, armed wi'...wi'..." Her eyes fell to the ground at Drew's feet.

  
Erik also looked at the carrier bag and the teddy on the ground.  He tutted.  "Wi' a bairn's stuffed toy?" he said incredulously. " Ye daft bissim, Gwenmora." Erik rolled his eyes and shook his head in disbelief.

The woman lowered the frying pan, but her glare turned on Erik. "Dinnae ye be usin' ma Blessed name Erik Longmaster or cawin' me a bissim in front o' folk, or ah'll huv yer beard for garters."

  
Erik's beard twitched and he shifted back against Drew. "Now lass, ye ken fine ma beard is off limits so dinnae be comin' oot wi' empty threats..."

  
     " _Empty_!" She stepped out from the doorway, hands on hips, her brow knitted, eyes blazing and that frying pan still held firmly in her right hand.

  
Erik moved back again. As did Drew. This woman put him in mind of a snapping turtle and he felt the need to put some more distance between them.  "Erm, will I come back another time?" He asked hesitantly, trying to gather the carrier bag and teddy by using his foot to bring them nearer him. 

He glanced at the cuddly bear with it little tartan waistcoat. It had had a few collisions with the ground since his arrival in Azeroth and its fur was starting to show the effects. He picked it up and blew on it, trying to rid it of the dry soil and grass blades it had accumulated. "Can't really give this to Sarah now," he said a tad dejected.

Gwenmora's hands fell to her sides. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Yer  _that_  Drew."

Drew looked up, not quite sure what to make of her statement.

     "Of course he's  _that_ Drew!" Erik said. "Whit other Drew div ye ken, onyway?"

Gwenmora ignored Erik and marched over to the human holding the teddy bear. "Gie's it here lad, ah'll mak' it as gid as new fur ye." She held out a squat hand. Gingerly, Drew surrendered the teddy bear. Gwenmora looked at it, and a soft smile crossed her lips. "Ocel will love this," she said.

     "Ocel?" Drew asked. His eyes were wide and the trace of a winsome smile played on his lips.

Gwenmora looked up at him. "Aye. The bairn. Sarah and Khadgar huv a bouncin' baby boy."

Drew's mouth formed a silent  _Oh_.  

The female dwarf shook her head. "Did ye no ken? Where on Azeroth huv ye  _been_ , lad. She hud the bairn four days ago."

     "Actually, I've just arr..." but before he could finish, Gwenmora had spun round and disappeared back into the cottage with the teddy bear.

After he made sure she was out of range, Erik grabbed Drew's hand and shook it warmly. "Ah, it's gid tae huv ye back lad," he beamed, his little eyes glinting from under the wayward bushy brows. 

Drew smiled. "It's good to  _be_  back," he said. The fact three others had come through with him, however, made him wonder if he would continue to feel that way. He glanced at the cottage door. "Have you got something to tell me?"

Suddenly, Erik became all coy. He stared at the ground, swaying slightly from side to side, hands clasped behind his back. Drew smirked. It was uncanny how like the game models these Azerothians could be at times. "Come on now," Drew coaxed. "Tell me who she is."

     "Her name's Gwenmora."

     "That much I gathered. Come on Erik, tell me more."

  
     "She's the daughter o' Fargo Flintlocke, the warrior engineer."

     "Okay.  _And_?"

     "And whit?" 

     "How did you meet?"

Erik took a very deep breath before looking back up at him. "I won her." He simply said.

     "You  _what_?" Drew gasped. He was suddenly overcome with the need to laugh.

Erik got all flustered and pressing a chubby finger against his bearded lips, while flapping with his other hand at Drew, shushed the human from making any further outbursts.

Drew was having a hard time keeping his face straight as Erik proceeded to tell him the tale.

     "It wis Sarah's idea. She said they dae this kinda thing back where ye's come frae and it's a' hermless fun.  It wis a charity doo tae raise monies fur those that were less fortunate efter the Legion attacks. They decided tae huv an auction... o'  _wimen_."

Again Drew had to stifle his laughter. Erik was still embarrassed and fidgeting, a foot aimlessly pushing a pebble round where they stood. 

     "So, obviously you won."

      "Aye, laddie." His voice dropped lower. "An' ahm no' tellin' ye fur how much, neither. But it was only meant tae be fur a night.  _Yin night_!! Y'know, jist a nice evening wi' a meal and some music, that wis a' tho'."

     "Uh huh," Drew stood, arms crossed, with one hand trying to hide the fact he was still laughing.  "And erm...how long ago was this charity auction?"

It took the dwarf a considerable time to reply. "It wis held at the stert o' the year." Erik hung his head again.

Drew made a rather strange sound from behind his hand. 

Erik scowled at him. "Ye git yaist tae hur."

     "So it would seem.  _Honey, ah'm home_?" Drew mimicked.

Erik scoffed, turning away for a moment. What flesh was visible under his beard and whiskers was almost as red as his hair. When he looked back up at Drew, however, his eyes were sparkling. "Well, ah kinda like huvin' hur aboot, now. She mak's a mean rabbit stew and... well, she keeps ma taes warm in the cauld weather." His bushy whiskers twitched and he winked at Drew. 

It was the most comical meeting Drew had ever heard of, but he was very happy that it seemed to be working out for his friend. 

Erik grinned and gestured the way forward.

     "Come awa' in lad. She disnae bite –  _much_." 

 

 

Stepping over the threshold, Drew instantly noticed Gwenmora had applied the woman's touch to the hunter's lodgings. It was even cosier than he remembered.

You could actually see out the windows now without having to strain your eyes or rub a clear spot on the panes and they all had curtains, held with decorative tie-backs. The armchairs had been freshened up and plump brightly coloured cushions rested in their crooks. Even the rugs had been replaced, no more threadbare ones in sight, just rich, deep-piled luxury underfoot.

The dining table had a crisp linen cloth draped over it and a small vase of fresh cut flowers. A new sideboard was positioned near hand and plates were neatly stacked in small piles on its surface. Cups were hung by their handles from small hooks and glasses sat neatly in a row under them.

The glow of the fire gave the whole room a very welcoming ambience. A small pile of logs sat at the right on the hearth in a basket and an iron companion set on the left. The large solid mantle was free of clutter and an enormous Dun Morogh landscape, its focal point the great mountain fortress Ironforge, hung on the chimney breast. A fond reminder no doubt of home for the dwarves.

As Erik closed the door behind them, he grunted to Drew and eyed his boots. Drew instantly understood, removing them and placing them next to the door where a coat rack also stood. He hooked his jacket over it for good measure. He also placed the carrier bag of baby goods down beside it. Erik then ushered him over to one of the armchairs.

Just as he was about to sit, Gwenmora emerged from the small hallway that led to the rooms at the back of the cottage. Drew instantly straightened again as she neared.

She held the now pristine teddy bear in her hands. Her mouth in a proud smile she looked up at him. "There's nae need tae stand on ceremony lad. Although..." she threw a quick glare at Erik, "...it's awfy nice tae see  _someone_  has manners when a lady enters the room."

Erik muttered under his breath.

Gwenmora handed the teddy bear over to Drew. He smiled when he saw it. It looked as good as new. "Thank you, very much Gwenmora."

     "Gwen!" she said. "I prefer jist Gwen."

     "Okay. Then, thank you,  _Gwen_." He bowed lightly, further indicating his gratitude.

She suddenly seemed to go all coy and a strange little chortle came from her. Erik grunted and with arms crossed he huffed at Gwen's reaction.

Drew noted the hunter's sulk and suppressing a smile, sat himself down in the armchair.

     "Git the lad summat tae drink then, why don't ye!" Gwen barked at Erik.

Still grumbling under his breath, Erik went through to the larder and came back with two tankards and a skin of Dwarven Ale. Gwen just stared hotly at him her hands back on those hips.  With a deep sigh, he returned from the larder once more, a third tankard in hand. When he handed her a full tankard, then she smiled at him.  She settled herself down in the other armchair as Erik poured ale for Drew and himself.

     "Thank you," Drew said as he accepted the ale. They all drank heartily.

Gwen leaned on the arm of her chair and looked at the human next to her. "Sorry aboot afore, Drew.  Wi' the frying' pan, ah mean." 

Drew hitched his right foot up so it rested on his left knee and relaxed back into the armchair. "Quite understandable," he said. "You can never be too careful."

     "Ma thought's exactly," she replied, shooting another judgemental look at Erik.

     "Och, wumin! Yer perfectly safe oot here and ye ken it!" Erik took another long draught of his ale.  "It's no as if ye cannae look efter yersel' is it? Drew can attest tae that." A small ripple of laughter spread between them.

Drew was curious to how things had been since he left. "So how's everyone been faring since the defeat of the Legion?"

Erik scratched at his beard and sat on the poufe facing him. "Well, tae be honest, it's a bit tough fur folk still."

Gwen sighed. "Aye," she nodded in agreement with Erik. "The fight hud dragged oot fur such a long time, ah think a lot o' us ur still regaining oor strength."

     "Yeah, well, it would take time to recover from  _that_ ," Drew said. "I was only involved briefly really, but it was intense and a lot of good people were lost."

The dwarves nodded and they all sat in silent reverence for a moment or two.

     "How's things bin back hame fur ye lad?" Erik spouted.

Drew's mouth twitched. He knew Erik was referring to returning without Sarah the last time. It was still hard to shrug off more recent events however, namely three others who were now roaming Azeroth in search of the Horde. He decided he should keep that bit of information to himself for the time being, at least from Erik. He knew he would need to come clean though with Sarah. And Khadgar. 

     "Surprisingly, I was quite efficacious, in that I managed to convince our managers she has just upped sticks and moved abroad.  They were none too happy, although there isn't really much they can do. They asked for a forwarding address, but I said I didn't know who her friends over the water were or where she was actually living. What I didn't consider, was her flat. I've kept up the rent for it even though I know she's never going to come back.  But, I need to go over that with her. I mean, everything she owned, is still there."

Erik nodded. He thought highly of Drew for trying to do right by Sarah in their homeworld.  It was no mean feat trying to be cover for someone at the best of times.  It was a testament to their friendship.

Gwen looked on in silence over the top of her tankard as Erik and Drew continued chatting.  Erik updated him on some of the other individuals the lad had met on his last visit.  

Events involving Sarah, and eventually Drew, had all started long before Gwen had met Erik.  She had, of course, heard stories about the mysterious woman from another dimension who had been instrumental in saving King Varian's life on the Broken Shore.  The way she had been vehemently defensive about Illidan Stormrage, the Betrayer had also reached her ears.   And of course, the most frequent line of gossip about this strange woman was that she had won the heart of the most eligible bachelor in Azeroth.  Archmage Khadgar.

Gwen had never met her until the Auction was announced.  As a means to raise some much needed financial support for those who had hit particularly hard times following the Legion invasions, it appeared by all accounts to be an innovative and fun way to do things.   When the opportunity to speak with Sarah arrived, Gwen was more than impressed by this now hybrid, half human, half demon hunter individual.   It was obvious this woman felt deeply for all the people, not only those in Stormwind but in Azeroth as a whole.

Gwen had jumped at the chance to be included in the Auction.  It had after all been a long and hard slog during the attacks on Azeroth. Tending to those injured, homeless, grieving, lost and desperate individuals who had fought so bravely during the war, eventually tired one out. She had travelled the length and breadth of the continent with like-minded individuals, assisting the druids of both the Cenarion Circle and the Expedition.  Together, they had given aid and support to those who had suffered. 

So the opportunity to discard the old leather and cloth working attire in favour of a pretty, colourful and flattering dress, was a must for Gwen.  Plus the possibility that she might be wined and dined by some tall and handsome warrior, be he human, or perhaps the more exotic night elf was a major attraction.  She even considered a worgen as a potential beau for the evening - purely out of curiosity.  She couldn't help wonder if they ate with utensils or simply buried their snouts in a bowl on the floor.  Once she really mulled that one over though, she decided a worgen was  _not_ desirable company after all.  As it turned out of course, it was none of the above who won her.  It was Erik.  

Sarah had been delighted it was the hunter dwarf who had bid successfully on Gwen and congratulated both of them enthusiastically.  The human was obviously very fond of Erik, making a great fuss of him.  They had developed a strong bond.  

Erik had proved to be the perfect gentleman that evening.  Attentive, mannerly, polite, complimenting Gwen many times on how lovely she looked.  She ended up quite taken by the red-haired hunter.  As they stood at the door of her family's home, he was very gallant and kissed her hand. His beard had tickled the back of her hand, making her giggle.  It took Gwen the blink of an eye to decide this one wasn't going to get away, so she told him she would up at his cottage the next morning.  His eyebrows had crawled up under his unruly red mop and she was certain his mouth was open under the plaited, wiry facial hair.  She then nodded goodnight, turned and closed her door firmly before he could object.

Erik's laughter pulled her from her reverie. Blinking she glanced between the two men trying to catch up on what subject their conversation had reached.  

     "An' apparently she near shredded his han'," Erik roared, near spilling his ale. 

     "Ouch!" Drew commented. 

     "He's no very gid at the nappy changin' neither..."

     "Now ye ha'd yer wheest, Erik Longmaster," Gwen scolded him as she instantly realised the poor Archmage was the topic of his mirth. "Dinnae ye be disrespectin' that man."

Erik puffed out his chest, instantly defensive. "Ah'm no disrespectin' onybody, wumin. He laughed aboot it himsel' when he telt me."

     "Even so. I'd like tae see  _you_ try an' change a bairn's nappy."

     "Oh ye wid, wid ye!" he was still annoyed at her reprimanding tone.

     "Aye! I wid!"

Drew shifted in his chair.  The couple's little spats were amusing, though if he wasn't mistaken, he thought there was a small hint of hope in Gwen's words.  Watching Erik's face, as the last comment sunk in, it seemed he too had got that impression.  The hunter dwarf was suddenly lost for words and chewed, involuntarily, on a long wayward, whisker from his moustache.

     "So, erm... they live in Stormwind now?" Drew ventured.

     "Eh?" Erik mumbled, still staring at Gwen.  Their eyes were locked.  

     "Sarah and Khadgar," Drew explained.

With a quick shake of his head he turned his attention back to Drew.  "Aye! Though Khadgar keeps his apartment in Dalaran fur when he's attending' business wi' the Kirin Tor.  I dare say yer keen tae see them though?"

Drew nodded and smiled his appreciation. 

     "Right then, ah'll tak' ye roond in a wee while, yince ah skin them rabbits."  Erik turned back to Gwen. "Wid ye mak' yer prize winnin' rabbit stew fur oor dinner, Gwen.  I wis tellin' Drew how gid it is, afore?"

The female dwarf smiled at him. "Of course, Erik. Ah widnae huv oor guest gan hungry now, would ah?" Then, her voice, a little softer. "Nor you, fur that matter, dearest."

Erik grunted, but his eyes displayed pleasure at her comment. He rose from his seat and went to prepare the conies.


	11. Deadwind

On the opposite bank to Elwynn Forest heading west, three individuals made their way along the winding, desolate paths of Deadwind Pass. Mist rolled in through the canyon, buffeted by a swift breeze making it rise in grey muddied clouds and curling wisps. Boulders and dead foliage gradually came into view as the mist slowly started to clear. It was a deeply ominous place.

"Do you even know where we're going?" Bernie whispered behind the tall figure in the flapping overcoat.

The sculpted coiffure tilted as Mick turned his head to look at her. His eyes were hard, mouth tight and with that aquiline nose, he looked particularly menacing. "Yes," he hissed in response. "Just stay low and keep quiet."

No matter how quietly they tried to move forward, the cold grey stone of Deadwind Pass echoed with the sounds of the three Edinburgh flatmates footsteps. Even the cushioning of the mist and unearthly lowly moan of the wind did not disguise their progress.

"How much further?" Mel asked.

Mick shook his head in annoyance. "I'm not sure. All I know is we stay on this path until it opens to the Swamp of Sorrows. And don't dare say ' _are we there yet'_ every few minutes."

Mel shrugged and quickly glanced at Bernie. Her jaw was set, but he guessed that was more to do with her annoyance at Mick's treatment of Drew. He reckoned she had been silently stewing since they left the area they had portalled into.

Mick had always aired his 'superiority' as he saw it in front of Mel and Bernie, but Mel really thought he was just a stuck-up prat the more he got to know him. Nevertheless, they all shared a nice flat, and Mel could put up with an intractable amount of prattish behaviour to remain where he was. Still, since they stepped through that portal, Mick's character took on another edge to it. He was demiurgic, but cold, and calculating. Granted he was also not without a degree of charm. He had after all managed to secure them a ride on a farmer's wagon through Duskwood.

Mick, had waved the farmer down, pretended to be uncertain of the way to Duskwood, and asked for directions. The farmer had kindly offered them a lift as he was heading that way anyway. Mick bowed to the man and thanked him but declined his kind offer explaining they had no money to pay him, having been robbed on the way through Redridge.

Mel had rolled his eyes thinking that would never pass as a convincing story, but he was proven wrong. The farmer nodded, saying he had heard of much thievery in the area, and as such did not look for payment, but was more than happy to help.

Walking through this eerie canyon, with its ghostly sounds, ravens cawing and an unshakeable sense of being watched, Mel couldn't help but wonder if they had all grossly underestimated the 'real' Azeroth to that of the game. This place was daunting enough on a computer, but its reality felt truly unnerving. Furthermore, they had no skills to defend themselves against anything that might attack them.

He looked over at Bernie again, but she was studying something on the ground. He watched as she moved over to their left and knelt down. He stepped over to her. "What is it? What are you doing?"

She was prodding at some loose shards around the base of a boulder, inspecting them at length. She ran her thumb along the sheared edges of a few of them, then selected two. She handed them to Mel. "What are these for?" he asked.

"Protection," she mumbled as she checked some more, choosing another four. "Give me your over-shirt."

"What?"

"Give me your shirt. You're wearing a T-shirt underneath it for goodness sake."

He did as she asked and watched open mouthed as she started to tear it into strips. She gestured for him to give back the shards. Again he did as she wanted and watched as she wound the strips of material round the blunt ends, making a grip. Once she had finished with his two she handed them back and started quickly on the others.

"You've been reading my mind," Mel grinned humourlessly. "Even so, I've never used weapons. Have you?

Bernie turned to look at him as she stood up. Her brow furrowed. "I – I'm not sure. I think I have." She seemed puzzled.

"You  _think_? Bernie, either you have or you haven't. Which is it?"

Bernie just shook her head leaving his question unanswered, then she edged past him and started after Mick. Mel followed closely behind.

"Here," she said, thrusting the stone shards towards him as Mick turned on hearing their approach.

He stared at them. His mouth curved up at one side. "Seriously? You expect me to use these... _toys_?"

"Have you anything better?" she snapped.

Mick's grin slowly disappeared as he glanced at his two flatmates. Mel stared at him defiantly. Bernie's challenging stance irked him. Taking the offered makeshift weapons, he glared back at Bernie. "And what, pray tell, will we need these for?"

Her eyes moved past his shoulder towards the stone lintel that spanned the path.

"That!" she answered, pointing to the lintel.

 

 

 

There, clinging to the underside of the stone was an enormous arachnid, dark grey in colour with a red diamond-shaped mark on its abdomen. The pattern repeated itself between all five sections of each leg.

Bernie noted Mick's expression wasn't quite so cocky now. She turned to Mel, who also followed her gesture. His eyes were wide, fear lurking near the surface. "Oh fuck!" he whispered. "Should have known we'd come up against some of the things from the game."

"Uh huh!" Bernie agreed. "Didn't think we were just going to walk through to wherever you plan to take us, unscathed, did you Mick?"

Turning slowly back to face her, he tried to regain some of his former confidence. "No, Bernie, I did not. I had thought, however, the damage from the Legion attacks might have left the way clear of any..." he glanced over his shoulder at the pulsating spider with its pedipalps tasting the air. "...nasties," Mick concluded.

" _Nasties_? That looks considerably worse than just 'nasty'!" Bernie hissed. Her eyes darted over to the spider again. The last thing she wanted to do was give the creature an advantage by giving away their presence. "I have never considered you naïve Mick. Until now. So, unless you have a giant can of bug repellent under that coat, I suggest you ready yourself for a fight."

Without another word, she crept to the right of the lintel. Two large boulders to the side of it provided a vantage point. Mel followed without thinking. Mick slowly crept backwards, concealing himself within the sparse, brittle foliage of a once succulent fern. The dry rustle and movement of the skeletal feathered leaves made the spider flinch.

All three of the flatmates held their breath as the eight-legged giant lowered itself to the ground on a sticky, fibrous stretch of silk. Its feet clicked and clacked against the stone path.

The hiss emanating from the beast turned Bernie's blood cold. She watched as its front legs toyed with the air and the pedipalps went into overdrive. It moved forward. Towards Mick.

As its cephalothorax emerged from under the shelter of the lintel, Bernie had a strong sense of déjà vu. It shook her for a second, but then it seemed instinct took over; she jumped down onto the spider's back. Pulling the two shards across in front of her, she separated the front of the arachnid from its rear. The screech from the wounded creature was blood-curdling. Bernie sensed it was also a battle-cry and quickly she scanned the area behind her.

"Mel!" she shouted, looking up. "Finish this one. There's more coming!"

Mel was rooted to the spot, disbelief written on his face of what he had just witnessed his flatmate do. The spider still flexed and flinched even though it had been mortally wounded. It was even more terrifying in the throes of death.

" _Mel_!" Bernie shouted again. She disappeared from view under the lintel.

He jolted into action and jumped down, careful to avoid getting too close to the spider on landing. He looked across and saw Mick, eyes wide, mouth slack. "You have to help too!" Mel said.

Mick remained where he was and pointed behind Mel. Slowly, he turned dreading what would meet his eyes. Two more of the enormous spiders were scuttling up the path. Bernie was crouched, waiting for them. She showed no fear. It appeared by all accounts that she knew exactly what she was doing. Could this possibly be the same woman he shared a flat with? The hopeless romantic who sobbed over soppy films, books and pictures of fluffy kittens?

"Hurry!" Mick almost screamed. Mel spun round to see Mick still trying to conceal himself in the ferns. Without further hesitation, he slammed his two shards into the dying spider which lay in halves. It died with a last, dwindling hiss. He then turned and went to help Bernie, not knowing quite how he was going to overcome the approaching threat, but equally not prepared to leave her to deal with them on her own.

As the spiders neared their prey, Mick finally stepped out from behind the ferns, but still keeping a good distance behind his flatmates. Bernie threw a hateful glance at Mick as he stood brandishing his shards. She knew he had no intention of getting close enough to use them.

Just as they thought the situation couldn't get any worse, their path was suddenly and completely blocked. Someone or some _thing_  had just vaulted up from the side of the canyon wall and landed with an audible thud accompanied by the vibrating hum of steel on plate.

A cloaked figure was crouched for a few moments. Slowly and deliberately it pushed itself up to an uncanny height. All the flatmates could make out was a full-length cloak with a fur mantle and a glint of plate and steel as the cloak's material billowed in the canyon breeze.

Although completely taken by surprise at the new arrival, Bernie and Mel were suddenly aware the click-clack of spider feet had stopped. Only a lowly hiss from the arachnids could be heard beyond the hulking beast that shadowed them. They looked warily at each other, shards still poised to attack.

"Remain where you are if you wish to live," the creature spoke with a rich basso profundo tone.

Seeing this as an offer of help, Mel exhaled loudly. "Th - thank you," he stammered.

The beast chortled deep in its throat. "I would say you're welcome, but..."

Mick scoffed, although there was a distinct tremor in his voice. "What! You can't handle the scary spiders?"

The creature inclined its head towards him. The flatmates caught sight of enormous smooth bull-like horns, each adorned with a golden ring penetrating each tip. The rings swung loosely from the movement of the massive skull. A Tauren. Thick dark fur rippled on the side of its face as it came into view. Its nose was more of a bovine snout, also pierced with a gold ring. Vapour streamed from the nostrils as the beast grunted, and a low menacing rumble akin to mocking laughter emanated from its black lips. "It is not the spiders  _you_  should fear, little human."

Another loud grunt from behind them announced this creature had brought company. All three heads turned.

Orcs. Two very big, very strong, very ugly orcs stood glaring at them.

"Oh fuck!" Mel said under his breath.

Mick almost tripped as he backed away. For all he was quite tall himself, he was of a slender build and as such he was dwarfed completely by the orcs and their Tauren companion.

Bernie glanced between the two orcs trying to assess the situation. As they moved forward, readying their axes and cleavers, she deduced they were, for now anyhow, more focused on clearing the way of the giant arachnids than bothering much about the three of them. She tugged Mel's arm and they stepped back as the orcs joined their Tauren accomplice. With a roar, the newcomers dove into action.

The Tauren quickly and easily despatched the two arachnids using the enormous sword and axe he wielded effortlessly. He kicked the corpses over the edge of the path and watched as the tumbling carapaces cracked and split on the jagged stone. They soon vanished from view, becoming swallowed up in the remaining mist that roiled in the bottomless canyon. But their screeches had lured more of the beasts and soon Bernie and Mel saw more articulated legs emerge over the lip of the path and from round boulders to their right.

The orcs, in big thunderous strides, moved towards the approaching arachnids and swinging their weapons, sliced and pummelled the creatures, forcing them back until they too tumbled over the side of the canyon wall.

Another one dropped from the ridge overhead, landing only feet from Bernie and Mel. The redhead moved quickly, once more launching herself up onto the creature's back. This one reared up, its four front legs cutting through the air. She drove the shards into its back. Blood spattered up over her face and she lost her footing. She fell with a dull thud on her back. The spider spun quickly. Hissing, it scuttled towards her. Without thinking, Mel ran forward and attacked the beast from behind, but its defences kicked in and Mel was suddenly cocooned in a blanket of sticky, glistening silk.

The spider continued towards Bernie. Her eyes darted around the ground near her, frantically searching for the shards. The shadow of the arachnid fell over her. She looked up as the huge fangs closed in on her. This was it! She was spider food! Her eyes squeezed shut.

A forceful whoosh followed by the reverberating sound of steel hitting rock echoed through the pass. Opening her eyes slowly, she saw the severed body of the arachnid fall over in opposite directions. The Tauren stood over her, his sword embedded in a crack on the ground in front of her. He offered her a hirsute hand. Tentatively, she accepted and the bull-like creature pulled her to her feet as easily as if he were picking a flower. "Th – thank you." She breathed.

"You are welcome," he replied. He yanked his sword from the ground.

At ten and a half feet tall, the half man half bull, all muscle and power, was an unquestionably daunting, but equally impressive creature. With enormous cloven feet and the weighty horns composed of dermal bone, covered in a thin epidermal layer, a Tauren was not a beast you took on half-heartedly nor without a high degree of skill. The horns alone could impale you easily enough, like sticking a skewer through a piece of chicken.

This Tauren however, was also clad in plate armour. His black cloak, as it rippled exposed the edging of his protective chest-piece, pauldrons and vambraces. Between each plate section, the sheen of thick dark fur peeked out. A cuisse covered his hardened thighs, leading to the poleyns on his knees. Bizarrely, he also wore sabatons which stopped just above his hooves appearing to offer little protection yet obviously served some purpose.

Wordlessly, he nodded to the orcs, who quickly peeled the silk cocoon from a panic-stricken Mel. They grunted at him, quite what they were trying to communicate was unclear, but both he and Bernie sensed they were simply making sure Mel was alright. He nodded and thanked them as he brushed off some of the silken residue.

Then all eyes turned to Mick. He stood, clearly shaken but making a determined effort to look otherwise. A snort from the Tauren had the two orcs move behind the coiffured individual and push him forward, he then looked to Bernie and Mel. "Come," he said. "You may take shelter with us." Without waiting for a response, the huge cloak swirled and the Tauren took the lead.

 

 

Bernie watched as the Tauren's cloak billowed out towards the three humans while he strode purposefully ahead. The crossed scabbards over his back housed the enormous truesteel sword with its pleated leather-bound hilt and jewelled pommel. The keenly honed axe slept in the second scabbard, its blade glinting from what little light was afforded through the murky clouds above. As he had already demonstrated, they were extremely lethal weapons.

While unnerved by the sheer size of their captors, Bernie nonetheless wanted to know their plans for them. "Who are you?" she boldly asked.

Mick, while noticeably on edge, still managed to glare at her and utter a warning that it was not  _her_  place to ask. Unperturbed by his agitation, she continued to face forward, watching the Tauren as his long steady strides continued. The fastenings of his armour and the scabbards creaked as his arms moved back and forth in military fashion.

The giant hirsute beast inclined its head to the side, nostrils flaring. Just the hint of a glistening eye looked in her direction. "I am Waquro Proudwalker of the Ragetotem tribe," he replied, his voice rich and deep.

"And why did you save us?" Bernie persisted.

A low rumble of laughter made the Tauren's shoulders quake. " _Save_  you? What makes you think you are saved?"

"We are human," she started. Her statement of the obvious caused the orcs to laugh gruffly. She merely glanced at them before continuing speaking with the Tauren. "We are more commonly affiliated with the alliance because of our race. You belong to the horde. They are opposing factions."

Again the tauren laughed, but the sound was now hollow. "We  _belong_  to no-one, except the Earthmother. We fight  _alongside_  the horde, but they do not own us." He turned further and glanced to the rear of the group. "I cannot speak for the orcs, however."

Flicking her red hair over her shoulder, she attempted again to assess their situation. "Alright! Still, should you not have killed us with our being on opposite sides?"

Mel gave Bernie's arm a hard push. The look of horror on his face and sharp shake of his head told her he thought she was practically offering them up as an aperatiff and did not agree with her line of questioning.

Bernie grinned at him, mouthing  _Don't worry,_ gently rubbing his arm with reassurance.

"You are right human, we  _should_  kill you." Waquro turned and raising a hand above his head, he reached for the sword strapped to his back. Both Mel and Mick blanched, but Bernie stood her ground.

The orcs grunted, flexing their over-sized muscles and clasping their keen axes even tighter. One of them taunted Mel as he turned to look at them. The musician almost fell as he tripped over some dry grasses forcing their way up through cracks in the stone. Bernie caught him by his elbow, helping him regain his footing. The Tauren snorted and lowered his arm.

"What  _do_ you plan to do with us then!" Mick asked, casting an arrogant look in Bernie's direction before turning resentful eyes to the tauren.

Waquro made a sound deep in his throat, like a growl. With one long stride he was directly in front of Mick. The sculpted hair was misted in vapour from the Tauren's enormous nostrils as he snorted at the human. Mick flinched and craned his neck to look up at the towering bull beast, trying to show he was not afraid of him. With his close proximity, the humans could feel the heat emanating from Waquro's fur and plate covered body. It implied threat.

"Know this, human," he said, his voice even deeper than it had been before. "I do not like you. You were the one hiding from the spiders while these two fought." He jerked his huge horned head in Mel and Bernie's direction. "Yet, your tone suggests you consider yourself superior?" He snorted again, making Mick's coiffure damp, causing it to separate and turn limp. The plate armour shuddered as the tauren gave way to low mocking laughter in his chest. "Be not mistaken, I could simply tred on you and wipe you out. As long as you are in my captivity,  _she_..." his huge plated, fur lined arm lifted and he pointed to Bernie, "...is the leader of your group."

Mick sneered and opened his mouth to protest, but Waquro held a warning digit in front of his face. "Do not! She had bigger balls than you, human, and I can separate you from your puny ones in an instant."

All that could be heard was the orcs' laughter and the low moan of the wind through the canyon. The tension surrounding the group was almost tangible.

The Tauren waited a moment as if to ensure he would not need to carry out the threat. He grunted, then with an enigmatic look thrown at Bernie, he turned and moved forward again, resuming his steady stride. The three humans received the flat of the orcs' weapons in their backs to push them onwards. The procession continued.

Bernie looked sideways at Mel, gauging how he was handling their situation. He seemed to be holding it together, even though his eyes occasionally darted behind them to check what the orcs were doing. As a rule, he was easy-going, never one to look for trouble. He had, however, over the years, happily stepped up offering to help with anything Bernie needed. He had been a true friend to her. He was good at whatever he did, whether it was work related or something for pleasure such as his jamming sessions on his guitar. And socially, Mel was liked by everyone. The same could not be said for Mick.

She let her gaze swim past Waquro's enormous back and on to her other flatmate. He had pulled his collar up tighter round his neck. A habit he had adopted, she noted, when he was irked by something. She could see the flush of anger rising on his cheek from beneath the edge of his collar. His eyes also glistened, raging from the humiliation he had just undergone.

She could not help but wonder what had caused such a change in him. He had always been a confident individual, more than aware of his own capabilities in various aspects of his life. He could be arrogant now and again but he was still bearable -  _normally_. Inclining towards the dramatic, he made bold entrances from time to time, usually in good humour. But when he went into his quiet, dark moods, which thankfully, were infrequent, Bernie and Mel knew just to leave him well alone. Sometimes he would rally hours later, occasionally it took days. He could be volatile yes, but she had never known him to be vile, which he was seriously bordering on now.

 

**_Music: Heroes Never Die composed by David Chappell_ **

 

Focusing back on the Tauren, and now aware of what he did not tolerate, she took a deep breath before pursuing her line of questioning. "Waquro of the Runetotem, earlier I implied you were under the horde's rule, for that I apologise."

She could see Mick sneering from the corner of her eye. He could stew all he wanted in her opinion. There were more important things than his bruised ego at stake here.

Waquro merely grunted in response, rolling his shoulders.

She persevered. "Can you tell us where you are taking us, and what you intend to do once we get there?"

After a moment, the Tauren answered her over his shoulder. "We go to our camp at the edge of the Pass. We will rest there."

"But, it is merely early afternoon. Why would we rest so early in the day? "

" _We_ have been been tracking since before dawn."

Bernie wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer to her next question, but she asked anyway. "Tracking  _what_?"

Waquro grunted. "You ask many questions, woman."

"I like to plan ahead." Bernie said, trying to sound bold.

At that the Tauren bellowed with laughter. The three flatmates stopped at the sound of his mirth. It was so deep it reverberated on the stone ground. Wide eyed, they stood stock still as the huge beast turned and stepped up to meet them.

His laughter ceased as quickly as it had erupted and he glared down at the three humans. "In this environment, planning ahead can be one's folly. Focus instead on the present, for there are many eyes watching you as we speak. Many teeth that can snap and bite. Claws that will rake and slice you open from your core to your throat."

His words had all three trembling. The corners of his bovine mouth curled, a satisfied grin on the hirsute face. "The only planning that matters in this Pass, is how to survive, here and now."

Mick swallowed. The remnants of his once confident persona having just floated away on the mists that still swirled around the rocky crags. "Then – then may I ask why do you camp at the edge of the Pass? Why do we not continue through the Swamp of Sorrows?"

It was the turn of the orcs to laugh. Their sound was raw, rough and menacing. The biggest one took a step towards them. His eyes narrowed to mere slits, the reddish brown irises looking almost like lasers behind the hooded eyes. Four inch long tusks protruded from behind his globular lips. A long string of saliva swung from the corner of his mouth, dribbling over the course plaited beard as he spoke in the rambunctious orcan tongue. Only a few words were recognisable to the humans.  _Uruk_  meaning 'kill',  _lak-tuk – '_ suffering' and of course  _lok-tar ogar –_ 'victory or death'. They all looked towards the towering Tauren for a full translation.

The basso profundo seemed to make the very pebbles underfoot dance on their stone floor. "Belmar says this place is a potential stone sarcophagus, where if you don't kill you will  _be_  killed. But, the Swamp of Sorrows is adequately named, for there you hover between life and death never knowing true suffering until you walk its length. Victory or death was never more true than when you cross the swamp and emerge either as you are, or as something ethereal."

 

**_Music: Let's Kill Some Crows composed by Ramin Djawadi_ **

 

 

Silence fell as he let the humans digest his words. Waquro then glanced at the orcs, and all three of the giants erupted in laughter once more.

It was unclear if they had just spun a yarn to scare them, or whether they were laughing at the fear in their faces. Either way, the humans were all unsettled and quietly and quickly resumed the trek to the camp of which Waquro spoke of.

The journey to the camp was punctuated with more creature kills. Spiders, vultures and wraiths lay mutilated in the path of the Tauren and his orc companions. Even a couple of stray ogres which had left the safety of their brethren in an area of the Pass known as The Vice, fell victim to their melee expertise.

Mick, Bernie and Mel were unceremoniously pushed aside, slammed against rocks as their giant captors rained fatal blows on their attackers. The sickening sounds of flesh being rent, steel kissing off bone, innards hitting the stone were imprinted to the humans' ears and eyes. The thrumming whack of axes being wielded on dry toughened carapaces, causing them to crack and split and the ear-piercing screeches of dying vultures and wraiths alike, echoed in the canyon. With death, followed the acrid stench of steaming guts and the coppery taste of blood permeating the air.

Blood spatter, along with a gelatinous substance covered Waquro's breastplate and cuisse, similar residues clung to the orcs' skins and leather armour. Their weapons were coated in thick, deep red ooze.

The reality of where the flatmates found themselves, finally hit home. This was no game. This was terrifyingly real. They could  _really_  die here.

 

☸

 

Waquro's camp was a welcome sight for the three friends. Minimalistic yes, but it managed to convey a sense of safety. Nestled in a wide fissure within the rock face, closed in at the far end, it promised shelter from the elements. A collection of animal hides, thick canvases, and tightly bound pelts lay scattered under where the unforgiving stone bridged overhead forming a natural roof. The space offered ample room not only for the humans to take shelter but also their three gigantic captors.

A large circle of stones in the centre bore the remains of last night's fire. Paw prints leading away from it evidenced that the blackened, charred wood had been rifled through by some bold, hungry scavengers. No doubt they were searching for scraps of meat stuck to animal bones discarded in the fire.

Mick took himself to the back of the fissure, pulling the collar of his overcoat up over his ears and wrapping the rest of it firmly around his body. He remained silent, withdrawing from even simple conversation with his friends. Mel and Bernie shivered, the temperature had dropped quite drastically within the last hour and they, unlike Mick, had overlooked bringing a coat. Bernie's hoodie offered little warmth against the near morgue-like temperature of their shelter. Mel's skin was covered in goosebumps having sacrificed his overshirt earlier and now left with only a t-shirt.

The orc named Belmar busied himself making a new fire within the stone circle. He threw down some chopped wood, dried out ferns and moss. Pulling a dagger from his belt, he sparked it against a flint and the kindling took hold. As he bent down to blow life to the embers, his eyes locked with Bernie's. His reddish-brown orbs held menace.

Mel watched the exchange between the two of them and was surprised to see Bernie defying the muscle-bound orc. Her stare was feisty, determined and without even a hint of apprehension. This was unlike her. Although not incapable of looking after herself, Bernie also had a very vulnerable side. She was not typically a courageous person and often shied away from confrontations. But she had surpassed herself here, in Azeroth. The change in her was good, unlike that of Mick's evolution. But it left Mel wondering, what changes if any, would he himself go through.

Belmar's eyes suddenly widened and unexpectedly, he broke contact with Bernie. He stood and moved deeper into the enclosure mumbling something in orcish.

Shunting over on his backside to be closer to her, Mel asked Bernie, "What did you do?" He was curious how she deterred such an enormous hulk from eye duelling.

Bernie shrugged. "Nothing. I just wasn't going to let him intimidate me."

Mel glanced over at Waquro who had slid down the far wall, seating himself on the cold stone floor. He was cleaning and honing his weapons. "What do you think they plan on doing with us?" he asked Bernie under his breath.

She drew her legs up and resting her chin on her forearms wrapped around her knees she stared into the growing flames. "I don't know, Mel. But intentionally or not, they have protected us, or so I am  _hoping_ that is..." she tried to think of some appropriate Warcraft dialogue, but could only come up with fairly common fantasy verbiage. "...a good omen, that the spirits favour us." She smirked.

" _What_?" Mel grinned. "We are in Azeroth for real, scared shitless with three monsters as bodyguards, and still you go into roleplay?"

They glanced at each other, then laughed. After the events of today, it felt good to have such release.

Their mirth was brought to an abrupt end however when Belmar's feet scuffed to a halt beside them. They looked up at him, huddling closer together involuntarily. In one hand he held three animal pelts, the fur of which looked soft, luxurious and warm. In the other, he held a large bag tied with a leather thong. He handed them to Bernie with a grunt. Tentatively, she accepted. The orc remained standing, waiting for her it seemed, to open the bag. Once she and Mel wrapped the furs around themselves, she loosened the leather that held the bag closed. Its corners fell open to reveal food. She hadn't realised how hungry she was until she looked at the contents. Crusty bread, thin cuts of cold meat, cheese, fruit. She looked back up and said thank you.

"Zug-zug,"* Belmar replied, then moved away to take the third hide over to Mick. They watched as he tried to get Mick to move to the fire. But he was not for budging. At least not until Belmar grabbed him by the shoulder of his coat and literally dragged him to where his friends sat already tucking into the food. He was dumped, unceremoniously, beside Mel. A grunt of displeasure from Belmar was all that he issued indicating his obvious intolerance of Mick's behaviour. The orc moved back nearer the entrance where the other one sat already tucking into food.

Bernie pushed the open bag along in front of Mel so all three of them could reach it easily. Mick snatched some meat and cheese but then turned away from his friends and stared moodily into the fire.

The clank of metal connecting with stone made Mel and Bernie look back towards Waquro. His weapons on the floor, he stood and took down a waterskin that hung from a jagged projection in the rock. He approached the group around the fire and offered the waterskin to Bernie.

"Thank you," she said with a small smile.

"Eat your fill then get some sleep. We have a long journey ahead tomorrow." His voice ricocheted off the fissure walls.

"Don't tell me you are planning ahead, Waquro," Bernie said. "I thought that was a bad idea here."

The Tauren snorted, vapour streaming from his wide nostrils. With a low rumble of mirth, he answered, "You learn quickly human."

She smirked. "May I ask where we are going?"

The Tauren studied her for a few moments and then trained his eyes on Mel. "Frostfire," he replied.

Mel gasped while Mick flinched, but said nothing.

"Draenor?" Bernie's voice had a nervous edge to it.

Waquro looked back at Bernie. "You are familiar with it?"

"Quite," she replied without embellishing it was merely through a computer game.

Waquro continued. "We head for the Dark Portal. There we will meet with one of my tribesmen and he will teleport us to our base in Frostfire." He moved away, returning to the loving care of honing his blades.

Mel nudged Bernie. "We - we are going to time travel too?"

"So it would seem," Bernie breathed. Her heart sank.  _What chance now?_  she thought. Not only distance, but now time? Her heart sank. She was being taken even further away from the one thing she wanted to be closer to.

Drew.

* * *

 

* Zug-zug - an acknowledgement such as "okay"


	12. Heartbeats

 

 

Early evening and a small bluebird landed at the open window hoping for its supper before it was time to roost. It looked inside the room, wary, it's cobalt head bobbing up and down nervously as it jumped along the sill. It chirruped then pecked at what it thought was an offering of a meal. It looked at the speck of paint, disappointed, the head jerking in robotic little movements owed to its confusion. Another chirrup and it skittered along the sill again hoping to find something edible on the other side. The whoosh of a door opening inside the room panicked the bird. It took to the wing, vanishing out over the city.

The flash of blue caught Khadgar's eye as he quietly moved across the room to the rocking chair at the far side of the window. Even though the war with the Burning Legion was over, he latched onto anything that was out of the ordinary or simply unexpected. Khadgar's heightened senses were borne from his fierce need to protect his family. They were his life, and ensuring their safety was a responsibility which far surpassed  _anything_  which had driven him in the past. For now, he was satisfied to find it was merely a bird which had taken flight.

His steel coloured eyes looked lovingly at Sarah as she held Ocel close to her breast. The babe's tiny fingers flexed against his mother's skin as he suckled contentedly. He was almost asleep.

Khadgar moved behind the rocker and curling his fingers around the chair's arms, he leaned into Sarah's neck, planting a soft kiss below her ear. He felt her shudder as his breath ghosted on her neck.

"You are driving me crazy doing that," she said softly.

"That's the plan," he replied.

"Hmm," her response was dreamy and she tilted her head back so his mouth could brush hers. Her lips smiled under his as she felt Ocel's tiny mouth slip from his source of nourishment. "Let me finish here then I am all yours."

With one more kiss, he smiled then left the room allowing her to tend to Ocel, putting him down to sleep.

Once properly winded and in a peaceful slumber, she gently lay her son down in his soft crib. She marvelled at his chubby little legs as they kicked for a moment, his body adjusting to the land of dreams. His chest heaved with a big sigh, and as he exhaled the tiny lips parted with a barely audible pop. Lightly touching the soft down on his scalp, she smiled her heart near bursting as she watched him. "You are loved so much Ocel," she whispered. "We will always be here for you. Sleep well, my little prince."

With one last look at the crib, she left the room, leaving the door open just a little so they could hear him if he woke.

She looked along the hallway towards the living area and her heart began to beat a different rhythm. The hall seemed to pull away from her, elongating, making her journey along it seem infinite. She nevertheless, put one foot in front of the other and made her way to the end of the hall.

Her desire was waiting for her inside a doorway to the left, and she could hear his heart beating over the sound of her own. It was one of the quirky side-effects, she had discovered, of the fel-naaru infused markings on her body. Her senses were sharper and her spiritual connection with not only the man she loved but all things, was almost overwhelming on occasion. She had, however, managed to isolate each sensation through studying and using the gift of the naaru. Now, she could reach out with her senses and practically feel him, smell him. Taste him.

She was also constantly trying to improve the telepathic ability of the naaru, and she could, although infrequently, hear Khadgar's thoughts. Until her skill was properly attuned, they would continue coming through mainly garbled and incoherent. It was a talent she was keen to develop, but she knew it would take time. There was no mistaking the sound of his heartbeat though and as she neared the room, its beat strengthened almost vibrating in her mind. It was comforting, reassuring, mesmerising.  _Intoxicating_.

It was close on five weeks since they had been fully intimate. Her last month of pregnancy had proved too uncomfortable to accept him and she had been too tired to tend to his desire in other ways. He had been understanding and patient, but there were times, his control faltered. On those occasions, he would walk away so she would not feel pressured to relieve him. Since she had Ocel however, four days ago, with the combined wonder of Brillyn's and her own healing abilities, she was more than ready. She was  _eager_ to love him again.

There were times when she wondered if she had somehow corrupted him; polluted him. Before they had become lovers, she, of course, did not witness such frustrations in him. His life had been all about Azeroth and protecting its people. He was focused one hundred percent on his work and aiding the champions of Azeroth to fulfil their duties and destinies. Even once their feelings for each other were acknowledged and their love consummated, still he ensured his responsibilities were carried out in his inimitable, stoic yet charming manner.

Naturally, as her lover, she relished the tender and passionate Khadgar but, now being a recognised citizen, and putting herself in the typical Azerothian's shoes, she sometimes wondered if the original Archmage was becoming lost. Was it possible for two very different versions of him to reside in the one body? He seemed to carry out his work diligently still, no-one had said differently certainly.

Or was it more to do with the fact that sometimes she overheard him in his study, speaking to someone, even though he was alone. She knew of course, who that someone was. She had overheard him one day saying,  _"I miss you old friend, I could do with your council."_ The late and sorely missed Vindicator Ocel, close friend and confidante. It had been nearly ten months since the paladin had died, but every day Khadgar thought of him. It had been partly the reason she had chosen the name for their son. A form of love and respect for the great man who gave his life on the battlefield for Azeroth, his family, his friend.

A brief wash of guilt swam over her. Its very presence halted her in her tracks. She had never experienced that before. She listened to her heart; it had thrummed a little too rapidly for a moment or two.  _Expect yer emotions tae be a' o'er the place fur a gid few months lass_ , Brillyn had told her. She swallowed, hoping that was all there was to it. She gave herself a little shake. Of course it was!

She felt a tug. His heartbeat was pulling her to him. She closed her eyes. From behind her lids, she could still see the glimmer of white gold that had started to pulse from her markings. She was responding to him, to his longing, his need. His desire. She was almost at the door.

" _Sarah_." It was no more than a whisper, but she heard him.

Stepping into their living area, she found him standing near the window, two glasses of wine in his hands. She smiled. It somehow reminded her of the first time he took her to Dalaran, before the war with the Legion had really begun. There he had thrust a glass into her hand demanding she drink while he downed his wine in almost one gulp. The memory of him wiping his chin with the back of his hand caused her markings to flare again.

_**Music: You and I by George Michael** _

 

His eyes turned to meet hers. He took her breath away. Dressed in casual leather britches and a plain white shirt tied loosely at the neck by a fine cord, her lower abdomen went into overdrive at the sight of him. His broad pectorals were outlined under the shirt and her eyes traced the ribbing of his torso where the shirt's material dimpled over. Her eyes flew up to his once more. His mouth curved into a knowing smile.

This was ridiculous. They were practically married, had a child and yet here she stood as if it were the first time they were going to engage in passion. She could feel the fabric of her full-length shift graze her nipples. She jumped slightly at the sensation. None of this was new to her. And yet, it was.

He stepped towards her, offering her a glass. "I wasn't sure if you would want this as you are nursing."

She smiled. How like him to consider such things. She accepted the glass. "One will not hurt. I am from stock who drank  _and_  smoked during and after pregnancy," she said. "I think  _I_  turned out okay."

He moved closer, snaking an arm around her waist. Leaning in, his mouth was mere millimetres from hers. "Oh, I'd say you're  _more_ than just okay, Sarah." The way he breathed her name almost made her fold, but she caught herself, quickly placing her free hand on his forearm. He leaned back a little and they clinked glasses, then each took a sip. She looked up at him. The soft flares from her markings glowing through her shift, reflected in his eyes giving them a strange, titanium quality, more pronounced than his usual grey. She watched, breathless as in a split second they darkened, his pupils dilating to the max.

The urge to launch her glass across the room and tear the shirt off his back was overwhelming. He read the desire in her eyes and took the wine from her, laying both glasses down on the occasional table next to where they stood. As his eyes met hers once more, he rested his hands on her hips.

"Khadgar," she whispered. "How I have missed you."

His lips brushed hers. Her need for more coursed through her and she pressed her body forward, but he held her in place, keeping a whisper of space between them. A sound like a small whelp tumbled from her lips.

"I know it has been a while," he said, the hunger in his voice being forcibly kept at bay, "but allow me to savour you."

His words caused her to flare, the brightness pulsing between them. Keeping his hands on her hips, he used his fingers to pull her shift up inch by inch while he traced soft kisses over her throat and towards her ear.

Her hands slid to his upper arms and she clung to him, trembling with the anticipation. With eyes closed, her head lolled back. His kisses intensified. A moan escaped her as the fabric of her shift bunched up above his hands, his fingers now touching the soft skin of her hips. His touch was light, gentle, there was only a slight scrape from the callouses on his fingertips. His hands moved round, cupping her behind, squeezing lightly. Now he pulled her into him pressing his arousal against her exposed skin.

She gasped and her eyes sprang open. His mouth took hers, his tongue sliding across her lips and exploring within. Her arms slid up to his neck, once more her lids lowered as his kiss deepened. One hand shifted to her lower back and he pulled her to him again.

This time he groaned, as her hardened nipples pressed against his chest. He almost faltered, relinquishing his restraint. Trembling, he held tight to her. "Why is it that I feel if I do not love you, I will cease to exist?" he breathed.

His question held a hint of fear, and it caught her off-guard. She pushed her fingers through his hair, raising his face to hers. Her eyes searched his.  _Where had that come from_? She wondered. Sensing her uncertainty he smiled. "I only meant, without you, there is no tomorrow."

She felt the sting of tears. Sometimes the intensity with which he loved her was frightening. Although his words were beautiful they also held such sorrow in their simple truth. This was all and more than she had ever desired and dreamed of, and yet sometimes she wanted to flee from its depth as if it was beyond all comprehension. Now she understood the saying, 'no pleasure without pain'.

Bending his knees slightly, and with his grip on her behind firm, he lifted her. She melted against him, feeling their hearts pounding against each other. His scent, his muscles, the warmth of his skin sent ripples of pleasure coursing through her, becoming more urgent with his every caress and warm breath ghosting on her skin. He moved to the sofa and gently lay her on its large soft cushions, lowering himself upon her. She smiled as the fervour in his eyes met hers.

"What?" he asked, brow creasing slightly.

"It still feels like the first time with you. My heart is racing."

He groaned as his eyes slid shut for a moment, a warm smile on his lips. "I have not forgotten that evening." Looking at her once more, with his voice having taken on husky timbre, he said. "It will always feel like this, I promise you."

He inched down. Brushing the fabric of her shift up, he exposed a breast and his mouth closed on her hardened nipple. She inhaled sharply as the sensation of his lips and tongue spread out and tantalised every sensory cluster in her body. She writhed as his lips vacated her nipple allowing the Spring night air to hone in on the area his mouth had just moistened. The contrast of temperature made her gasp. Kisses travelled lower, his large hands held her in place while moving down in unison with his lips.

She was swirling deeper, drawn into a torrent of wild, carnal sensations. Her head turned from side to side on the plush cushions as each kiss heightened her desire. Her entire body was aching from her need for him.

The demon markings seemed to almost hum as their luminescence pulsed, growing brighter with each beat. She could not control them. All focus was on Khadgar's touch as it brushed her skin, his kiss, his breath and ... his tongue. He had just reached her most intimate place.

"Oh god!" she cried, inhaling sharply, her body tensing. The room was instantly awash with white gold.

Distantly, a sound, but not from within the room itself reached her ears. It was faint, but it was there nonetheless. Still, she was spinning, soaring from her lover's kiss.

The sound came again, this time sharper. And over that, she heard Khadgar groan. His tongue had stopped lapping, his lips removed from her flesh. A cry of despair left her. "No!" She looked down at him and his eyes, though blazing with passion, darkened over with irritation.

The sound came once more. A knock at the front door.

Instantly, Sarah's markings dulled, snuffed out like a candle. The suddenness of it surprised Khadgar and he looked at her, his eyebrows hitched high. She furiously tugged down her shift, lifted her bottom for it to pass down over her legs before she pushed herself up. Swinging her legs out from under Khadgar's arms, she then stood, smoothing the fabric down, making sure she was decent. Emotionally, however, she was anything but.

The Archmage was still on the edge of the sofa looking up at her. She snapped her head round and glared at him. She had been overflowing with desire just a few moments ago, in utter bliss, desperately aching for him to take her. Tears threatened. The moment was ruined. By some  _imbecile_  at the door! All this, Khadgar could read in her face as clearly as if he had been reading The Stormwind Herald.

A smile spread across his face causing her to become even more stern. He held his hands up defensively. "I did not invite anyone," he said, struggling to hide the mirth in his voice. He glanced at the entrance as the knock came again, more persistent.

"You're laughing! You find this funny?" Her mouth was taut with her frustration.

"No, actually. I'm as irritated as you are, but your display of annoyance amuses me, I have to admit."

She huffed. And huffed again. "Coming!" she shouted at whoever insisted on committing coitus interruptus.  _Or I would have been if you hadn't interrupted_ , she thought grumpily. For once, she wished she could somehow project her power and blast whatever individual was on the other side of that door, across the sea to Kalimdor.

Khadgar just managed to nip a laugh in the bud, as he rose from the sofa. He slid an arm around her waist and brought his mouth to her ear. "Later, Sarah. I will love you as never before. Be patient until then."

Finally, the hint of a smile crossed her mouth. "Are you answering the door then, or am I?"

Kissing her temple with a smirk, he said he would answer it and allow her time to calm down. She nudged him playfully in the ribs.

As Khadgar went to the door, Sarah moved around the living area igniting the wall lights. Their flames flickered and spat into life, the soft evening shadows in the room dispersing as more light filled the room. The sky was darkening, night's soft indigo draping her blanket over the coastal city. The last slivers of peach and pale pink were just disappearing on the horizon.

From the hallway, she heard the unmistakable raucous laughter of Erik. She smiled. He had been visiting every day, sometimes just for a few minutes while he was tending to business in the city. He was always welcome as was Gwen, who she assumed was with him although she did not hear her.

"There ye ur lass," Erik said from the doorway. He came shuffling in, his eyes sparkling.

Sarah moved forward to greet him. Her disappointment at the inopportune disturbance was almost forgiven on seeing him. _Almost_. He was always so cheery when he visited and tonight he seemed particularly so.

"Ah huv a surprise fur ye!" He said, rocking back and forth on his heels.

His obvious excitement intrigued her and had her wondering what on Azeroth had him so upbeat. He turned to the door, she followed his gaze. Khadgar stepped into the room and moved to the side. A knowing smile played on his lips.

Her brow furrowed. She looked back down at Erik, who flexed his bushy brows and indicated the doorway again with a nod of his head.

Her hands flew to her gaping mouth as she saw Drew enter the room. A split second later she was running across the room and throwing her arms around her best friend. Drew staggered back a little from the impact, careful not to drop his gifts. Soft laughter flowed around the room as the two friends showed their delight at seeing each other again.

Erik moved over beside Khadgar. He looked up at the Archmage who was smiling at the reunion in front of them. His eyes fell on Khadgar's waist and the slightly dishevelled shirt hanging over his belt. "Uh huh!" he muttered.

Khadgar looked down at him, puzzlement having replaced the smile his face held a moment ago.

Erik nodded at Khadgar's belly. "Ah see her home-cooking's gan doon weel, onyway," the dwarf said knowingly with a grin.

The Archmage looked at his stomach, his hands automatically resting on it. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"Weel, yer fillin' oot a bit. No that ye didnae need it mind ye wur a bit peely-wally."

The comment was overheard by Sarah and Drew who turned to see Khadgar's look of concern. "Erik!" she scolded while trying to keep a straight face.

The dwarf was genuinely taken back at the reprimand. "I wisnae bein' rude," he explained. "Ah wis actually..." His eyebrows knitted together as he searched for the words. "Complimentin' him on lookin' bigger. Ah mean, better!  _No_!" He looked back up at the now scowling Archmage. "Ah dinnae mean ye didnae look gid onyway, ah jist meant..."

"I think you should just stop now Erik, you've dug yourself a big enough hole." Drew smirked.

Erik folded his arms feeling both embarrassed and foolish - and also duly reprimanded.

"Come on now," Sarah coaxed their guests. "Move through why don't you. Grab a seat and I'll get some drinks and..." She briefly glanced at Khadgar who still seemed to be inspecting his waistline. "...Snacks." She finished with a restrained chortle.

Erik led Drew into the living area while Sarah went to the kitchen, followed quickly by Khadgar. She opened cupboards to find glasses and plates, then crossed to the larder and selected some pastries with other savoury snacks which she arranged on a bigger plate.

Khadgar stood, arms folded, his behind leaning against the sink. He watched her preparing everything for their guests, a sulk firmly in place on his usually handsome face. "Don't put too much out, I won't be eating," he said with a huff in his voice.

Sarah bit back an urge to laugh. "What's got into you?"

"Your home-cooking apparently," he replied drily.

Keeping her back to him so he couldn't see her struggling not to laugh, her shoulders trembled from her mirth. She placed the glasses and plates on a tray. "Since when did you become vain?"

"I'm not vain. Just ... aware."

"Of what? The out-spoken words of a dwarf?"

Khadgar grunted.

Sarah had enough of his little huff and turning she closed the distance between them. Placing her hands on his abdomen, allowing her fingers to explore, she raised herself up on her tip-toes and planted a small kiss of reassurance on his cheek. "Everything there is as it should be. Perfect! Now stop being such a Johnny and help me carry these through." She turned, picked up the tray and handed it to him.

"What's a Johnny?" he asked as she ushered him through the hall towards the living area and their guests.

"Johnny Awesome," she winked. "Vain blood elf?" She raised her eyebrows.

"Who?" Again he checked his waistline.

She sighed and shook her head. "Never mind, just get your rippling abs through there."

 

☸

 

Laughter filled the room as Drew related his arrival at Erik's house and the greeting he'd received from Gwen. He also commented on the gibes between the two dwarves. Erik just shrugged but giggled now and again. Sarah was well aware of the bickering between Erik and Gwen, but she equally knew there was genuine affection between the two.

Drew mentioned Sarah's flat, asking what she wanted him to do about it. He asked if she needed some of her belongings portalled through. Her answer was simple. She had all she needed here. The only thing she would have liked was her laptop, but there was no point as there was no electricity. Erik suggested that some engineers may be able to help, but she decided to let it go. The circuits she reckoned would be far too sensitive for anything they could come up with.

She gave Drew free rein to do as he wished with her belongings and issued her bank details, telling him where her card was, so he could take back what money he had paid out on her behalf. If he could pay off any bills she had lying around, then close the accounts she would be grateful. She would issue him with the online accounts she could remember, passwords, usernames and pins where required. She would also draft up a mandate giving him permission to act on her behalf in case the banks were awkward. Whatever money remained he was more than welcome to - she had no need for it in Azeroth.

It had been a strange conversation to have. Almost as if she was erasing her existence, which in effect, was exactly what she was doing. She expressed that if he did not wish to carry out the 'closure' then he was free to let it slide. Her landlord would soon step in and remove everything anyway. The only thing she really wanted him to have was access to her money. As long as he accepted the money back which he had paid out for her, she would be more than appreciative.

But, Drew, still the faithful puppy, assured her he would do everything necessary. The finer details they would address another day.

 

 

 

He then presented the gifts he had brought, including the spruced up teddy bear. Sarah was overcome by his generosity and the beautiful items he had given for Ocel.

"Would you like to see him? He is sleeping, but that's alright."

"Sure," Drew smiled.

She carried through the things he had given her, and they slipped into the nursery. Sarah folded and tucked the items of clothing into the set of drawers near the window, while Drew stood over the crib, looking down at the sleeping boy. "He has his mother's good looks anyway," he said.

Sarah laughed lightly. "Better say its Khadgar's good looks, I think he's a bit self-conscious after Erik's comments earlier."

Drew laughed too, but it soon faded when she asked him about the clothing. "I'm well impressed by these," she said. "Did you pick them out yourself?"

He continued watching Ocel for a few more moments before turning to her. "No. I had someone help."

Sarah stopped in mid-fold of a romper suit and looked at him, eyebrows cinched. "Oh? Who is she?" She asked smiling.

When Drew's mouth did not react similarly, she placed the romper in the drawer and closed it quietly. She walked over to where he stood, his hands still on the edge of the crib avoiding her eyes. She touched his arm.

In that instant, her ears filled not with three heartbeats as expected – Drew's, hers and Ocel's – but a more distant fourth thrummed steadily too. She glanced to the door thinking perhaps it was Khadgar or even Erik. But no. There was something... _different_. She could not understand it though. Faded, partial images floated across her mind - butterflies, a celebration of some kind, a wedding perhaps? She blanched a little at the sight of a city, destroyed, merely rubble, and felt such terrible sorrow. A clawed hand then crossed her view and the vision turned red. She broke contact with Drew. The images and the distant heartbeat then evaporated.

Drew noted her brief reaction. The demon markings were pulsing their brilliance, just a little, a hint, but enough for them to show through her shift.

"Sarah?" his dark eyes searched hers. Whatever had just happened, was odd, to say the least. "Something wrong?" his voice had an air of concern.

She shook her head, still at an utter loss as to what had just passed. "No. Nothing." She would give it some thought later perhaps but now was not the time. She swallowed quietly, then smiled back at him. "So. Tell me. Who is she, your mysterious shopper friend?"

Drew took a deep breath. He had been wondering how he was going to broach the subject certainly, but Sarah had opened the way for him. Now the opportunity was here, he wasn't particularly looking forward to spilling the beans. Truth was, it may turn out harmless, but something in his gut told him, as long as Mick was involved, it had the potential to be ... troublesome, anyway. "That is something I need to speak to both you and Khadgar about." He replied.

"It's  _that_  serious?" she jested. "Where have you been hiding her?"

There was no sparkle in his eyes, merely an underlying concern of some description. "I haven't been hiding anyone, that's part of the problem. I've basically just met her. And I think I've screwed up - big time."

Sarah could accept if he wished to speak with  _her_  about relationship problems, but the need to involve Khadgar was something she didn't understand.

As if reading her mind, Drew took another deep breath. "It involves Azeroth. Here. Now."

Another knock came to the front door. Sarah looked towards the hall. "Busy place tonight," she commented before she turned back to face Drew. She almost touched his arm again but decided against it. Instead, she gave him one of her warmest smiles. "Don't worry Drew, we will discuss whatever is bothering you. I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

Khadgar joined them a moment later. "A moment please," he said to their guest.

Drew nodded and made to leave the room. "You have a good looking son," he said to the Archmage as he levelled with him. He considered Sarah's words earlier. "He looks like you, Khadgar. No doubt he'll make you proud."

Khadgar's mouth split into a wide grin. "Thank you," he said. "Most people say he looks like Sarah. You're the first to say he's like me."

Drew inclined his head to hide a grin, then left the two of them in the room as he went to rejoin Erik.

The Archmage looked at Sarah. Her heart skipped a beat. Then it almost thundered to a stop. She knew that look. Something important had come up.

"I'm sorry," he said crossing the room to hold her. "I have to leave."

She placed her hands on his chest. "What!  _Now_?" She could hide the disappointment in her voice.

He tightened his hold on her. "Yes. Kayn just gave me a message. Illidan wants to meet with me in Dalaran."

"Illidan? What can he want that is so important to make you leave tonight?"

"Something strange is happening within the Dark Portal. Two orcs came through to inform us."

"What? Is that even possible? I thought it was only one way now."

"Well, they have found a way through and they have something to tell us, which it seems Illidan is quite excited about."

Sarah, not one to interfere in Khadgar's work, still did not understand why he had to go _now_. If it was something the Lord of demon hunters was getting a jolly from why didn't he just deal with it himself? She voiced her opinion.

"It is only a hypothesis just now Sarah, but it needs my input. If it is what Illidan suspects, we must investigate this thoroughly - and sooner rather than later."

A shiver ran down her spine. Although she had an inkling as to what Khadgar referred, she nonetheless found herself asking the question. "And what does he think it is?"

The Archmage's arms tightened around her. He planted a kiss on top of her head before answering. "The Void."


	13. The Frostwolves

 

   

Dalaran. The magical city that was created for and by powerful magi and high elves following the decline of the Empire of Arathor, had now undergone its fourth reconstruction since its creation.

Once more its Chamber of Air towered above even the tallest of spires. It's spinning dome nestled in the clouds blending with the atmospheric elements to create a protective shield for those within.

The city was starting to hum with excitement again as traders of old returned along with new blood desperate to make their mark in the city of magic. Inns offered the growing influx of patrons a place to rest their weary heads in sumptuous beds and fill their bellies with a selection of fine dining and top quality ales and wines.  

All buildings whether tall and elegant or single storey and demure were all dripping with opulence. They overlooked the immaculate paved streets and public gardens of Runeweaver Square. To the north-east of the square lay the Magus Commerce Exchange where domed business premises housed many trades from alchemists to tanners and vendors of curios and specialist interests.

Banks and auction houses had been re-established and with commerce recovering steadily, these establishments were always privy to a high traffic of business managers, entrepreneurs, aspiring tradespersons and even top apprentices.

Krasus' Landing was once more in full operation where flight paths to practically anywhere in Azeroth could be purchased by gracing the palm of the chief flight master with sufficient gold. Gryphons, hippogriffs and Illidari Fel Bats lined the circumference of the Landing now. The creatures were looked after by apprentices who had aspirations of becoming the next generation of flight masters. These individuals had to prove their worth by demonstrating an ability to look after the beasts from ensuring they were well fed, watered, had adequate bedding where required, feathers and hide properly groomed, and if need be, hand rear any young which were rejected by their parents. In time the apprentices would also select their favoured beast and locate and secure potential flight paths, whether it be for places particularly difficult to reach, or simply to provide another stop for those occasional long-haul flights.

Houses and apartments had been remodelled, refurbished or rebuilt depending on the extent of damage from the Legion's persistent attacks. As in the past, the mages of Dalaran considered themselves the hierarchy of the magic world, bathing in resplendent luxury, their homes being emblematic of their wealth.  All in all, the floating metropolis was reborn. It's pristine, regal appearance was once more affording it the title of the Jewel in the Sky.

Although opinions were split on the reaffiliation of the horde in the magic city, Sunreaver's Sanctuary nonetheless had also been awarded a facelift. And it was in here, within the inn, that the two Frostwolf orcs were stationed.

Khadgar decided it would be prudent to meet these orcs, with Illidan, before he consulted with the other five members of the governing Six. In order to prevent gossip and speculation, however, he had agreed to meet Illidan in Mardum then portal both of them to Sunreaver's Sanctuary.

The Archmage was no stranger to those affiliated with the horde.  He had spent much time amongst many of them over the years and indeed had found those who, like him, believed that working together, was the way forward.    Old grievances ran deep, however, and there were some from each side, who would gladly cleave each other without a second thought.  It would seem, by all appearances, that would  _never_ change.

The unexpected whirr and sloosh of a portal opening in the basement of the Filthy Animal Inn startled one of the orc employees as he lifted a new barrel of ale to take upstairs. The shock resulted in the said barrel slipping from his hands. The firmly wedged cork, dislodged by the impact on the stone floor, shot from the resined barrel, ricocheted off the other kegs and cases of alcohol and spun round on the spot until finally, it came to rest. The contents of the barrel began spraying out over the floor and feet of the gobsmacked orc. He remained motionless as he saw first the Archmage materialise from the sea-green mass and then an enormous, powerful looking demon hunter. Not used to seeing Illidari, the orc remained rigid, his soft leather boots darkening from the frothing ale that pooled around them.

Khadgar nodded to the orc, seemingly unperturbed that someone was there when they portalled in. "Good evening," he said.

The orc's eyes flicked to Archmage then back to the demon hunter beside him. Illidan rounded his shoulders and flexed his neck.  As his runecloth mask turned in the direction of the gaping orc, Illidan's lips split into a grin, his fangs on display. The orc flinched then tore his eyes from the demon hunter and forced himself to focus on Khadgar.

     "Mok-rah*," the orc uttered. Then he repeated it in the common language, "E – evening."

Khadgar looked down at the keg. Its flow of escaping ale was dwindling and the foam on the pool around the orc's feet started to disperse. The Archmage knew this mishap was not going to go down well with the innkeeper but he nonetheless needed to speak with her. "Please tell Uda that Khadgar is here," he said to the orc.

The orc remained staring at him, unresponsive. The Archmage shifted on his feet. "Uda?" he repeated, pointing upstairs. Still, the orc didn't move.

Illidan groaned, tiring quickly of the orc's stupidity. With a loud snap, he unfurled his wings and took a step nearer the mesmerised employee. With something like a squeal, the orc cowered. "Uda!" Illidan said, his baritone making the pool of ale on the floor ripple around the orc's boots.

Finally, the orc showed a spark of life, nodded quickly, then side-stepped past the visitors and ran, nearly stumbling his way up the basement steps.

Khadgar looked up at the grinning demon hunter. "You have a problem with orcs?" he asked, one eyebrow raised.

Illidan laughed deep in his chest and turned to Khadgar. "Only stupid ones."

Heavy footfalls descending the stairs made the two of them look up. A dark-skinned female orc, athletic and fierce, barked at the orc behind her. "Look at this mess, Wanathan! It will be coming out of your wages!"

     "Yes, Uda," Wanathan was almost bowing behind her.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and turned towards the two visitors.  As she moved into the light her angular features came into view. Her face bore a sharpness which may have been attributed to the high set ice blue eyes that looked out from under her arched brows. Her stare let you know without a doubt, that she missed  _nothing_. Her nose while small for her face was adorned with a nasal ring that lay over her elongated cupid's bow and stopped just short of her top lip. Two small tusks on her lower jaw protruded from her plum coloured lips.

At close to six and a half feet, she was tall as far as female orcs go and had a physique that was well-toned and powerful. Her attire may have been considered sexy on another more, delicate female, but the leather breast top and matching shorts did not come across so on her muscled torso. She wore leather gauntlets, chausses that rose halfway up her thighs, finished with knee-length boots.

Many people actually found themselves trying to avoid looking at anything other than her face, for fear that she found their stare inappropriate. The two men she stood in front of now, however, were not intimidated by her, nor inclined to stare anyway.

     "Archmage," she said by way of greeting. Her voice was surprisingly gentle when she wasn't barking orders or reprimands.

     "Uda," Khadgar replied with a gentlemanly inclination of his head.

The orc innkeeper turned to Illidan and lifted her eyes to the demon hunter's horned head. She was not averse to offering respect where it was due. She bobbed her head before speaking. "You must be Illidan Stormrage," she said. "I have heard your people speak of you. It is an honour to meet you."

Illidan inclined his head but said nothing.

Uda faced Khadgar once more. "I have secured the Frostwolves in a secret chamber below here," she said in answer to what he was about to ask. "They have been made comfortable and are eager to see you."

      "Thank you Uda."

She took a deep breath before asking a question herself. "Is it true Khadgar, that they hail from our past?"

Khadgar straightened. He had been in Draenor a few years back and had helped champions with the fight against the Iron Horde. It had been a rather strange experience and had left him a little disorientated at times, but he adjusted. "Yes, Uda, they do."

     "Hmm. It is strange meeting these orcs. Stranger to think that if they had stayed in Draenor and allowed time to travel its course they would most likely be only spirits in our present."

Khadgar raised his brows, surprised that Uda had given it any consideration at all. He grinned. "Possibly, Uda. Or, they may still live, somewhere. The folds of time can be confusing, but let us not dwell on that for now. Can we meet with them, please?"

Wanathan still stood behind Uda, listening to the conversation. The innkeeper's eyes shifted to her right and her voice took on an authoritative tone. "I won't tell you again Wananthan, clean up this mess and it had better be done by the time I come back up."

The chastised orc immediately went to work, trying hard to douse the irritation in his eyes.

Uda led the way behind a pyramid of kegs. She paused for a moment. A fierce and able woman though she was, she nonetheless feared the Archmage. That fear, however, was steeped in her great respect for the man.

Khadgar sensed the hesitancy and cocked an eyebrow at her.

     "It is not only you mages who have secrets in the city," she said. "I trust..."

     "Yes," he intervened. "You can trust me, Uda." His eyes conveyed his sincerity, and the orc nodded gratitude before proceeding.

A secreted door, no more than a stone slab,  was opened by her stepping on a particular sequence of cobbles. The sound of heavy stone scraping on the floor announced its shift as it began to open.  Moving inwards, small swirls of powdered rock buffeted upwards in its track before the stone slab moved out of view to the left.  A long corridor lay ahead, flickering wall torches lighting the way towards yet another door. A sliver of light rippled at the base of the door - shadows cutting across as the inhabitants behind moved about. 

Along the way, Khadgar noticed other doors with barred windows. He sneaked a peek inside one as he passed.  He saw a variety of wine crates, all rare vintages which he knew were not available to the public in the bar upstairs. Also, he caught a glimpse of something gleaming in the corner of the room. The tip of a cutlass, finely honed, lethal no doubt was half covered in a mageweave throw. Uda it seemed had a little side business in Black Market goods. Everyone had to make a living as best they could he thought. This was obviously her concern when she had paused before opening the way to the Frostwolves.

As Uda led Khadgar and Illidan through the corridor, the echo of their footfalls swirled around the stone walls and back the way they came. Khadgar glanced behind. The demon hunter was having to duck slightly to pass through the corridor. His wings though furled, still clipped the edges of the walls. Twice, he nearly caught the torches but managed to shudder the wings out of harm's way. He followed the Archmage and the orc innkeeper without complaint.

Without hesitating this time, Uda opened the door to where the Frostwolf orcs had been given lodgings. She stood aside to allow the visitors access.

The room had been made comfortable, just as Uda had said. Two bunks, with fresh bedding, had been made up for the orcs. A heavy wooden table with two benches either side served as a dinner table, the remnants of their evening meal still needing to be cleared away. Bowls and pitchers with soft towels and toiletries afforded them a way to wash.  Rugs were scattered randomly but not without some consideration, forming a warm, plush surface underfoot. Torches hung on the four walls, providing adequate light, but with no windows, it was difficult for the orcs to gauge time.

Khadgar stepped inside. When he saw the Frostwolves in question, one male the other female, his face broke into a huge smile. The Frostwolves were equally pleased to see him. Their eyes, however, moved past his shoulder as another individual entered. The room's ceiling, being higher than that of the corridor, allowed Illidan to straighten to his full height. Being taller than the other demon hunters who had found them, the orcs were in awe. Khadgar quickly stepped aside and gesturing to the demon hunter, introduced him. "Galurk, San'ti, this is Illidan Stormrage, Lord of the Demon Hunters."

The two orcs nodded in Illidan's direction. He returned the salutation.

Khadgar continued. "This is Galurk Warsnarl and San'ti Fireaxe of the Frostwolf clan from Wor'gol in Draenor. They were amongst the clansmen who aided me and heroes of Azeroth to defeat the Iron Horde leaders in Draenor. Ultimately we faced Archimonde, who, cast Gul'dan through the portal. Thus, the chain of events that led to  _your_ release."

The demon hunter scoffed at the brief outline. He too knew about dealing with the Burning Legion. It was indeed odd, however, to hear of the battles on Draenor as if they had occurred just yesterday. His lips curled into a sneer at the mention of Gul'dan.

Satisfied that the demon hunter had all that he needed to know for the time being, Khadgar turned back to the orcs. "It is good but somewhat strange to see you here."

The male, Galurk spoke. His voice smooth but tired. "No stranger than it for us, I assure you Khadgar. I can only mirror your sentiments. We never for a moment thought we could actually cross time nor hope to reach you, but, we did and here we are." He wore a solemn smile.

     "Yes," the Archmage said. "Here you are." His smile gradually faded as the potential seriousness of their plight presented itself. "You were deliberately trying to find me?"

San'ti stepped forward. "Yes, Khadgar. Drek'thar sent us."

The Archmage inched back, astounded by this piece of news. He rubbed the back of his neck as if he had an ache he was trying to soothe. Drek'thar would not have strived to send them through a redundant portal unless it was of the utmost importance. "Drek'thar?"

     "Yes, it has taken him four full moons to get us through, so we must act with all haste," Galurk said.

A chill ran up Khadgar's spine. Thanks to Illidan, and Sarah of course, Khadgar had an inkling of what the shaman so desperately wanted him to know. But, the delay in the orcs getting through to warn them had given it four months, a third of a year to develop whatever plans or power it needed to cause the ultimate destruction. It was pointless asking the obvious. He knew what Drek'thar was attempting to warn them about.

     "Has the Void caused damage to Draenor yet?"

The two orcs were taken aback. Khadgar already knew about it? "H-how did you kn..." Galurk stuttered.

     "We were forewarned by the naaru when we planned to rescue Illidan. It is the main reason they have sanctioned him with their light. We just didn't expect it to come at us through the back door so-to-speak." He could tell by their blank expressions, none of that made any sense to them. He made a mental note to explain better once the urgency of the current situation was defined.

The orcs glanced at each other before San'ti took up the conversation. "When we left Draenor, it had not caused any physical damage that Drek'thar could discern. It is more of about the vision he had, a foreboding he senses. He does not believe the Void Lords have entered our world yet, but..."

Khadgar waited for her to continue. When she seemed unable to, he coaxed her. "But?"

She took a deep breath. "He has witnessed a change in the people. They are becoming despondent, they are losing faith, they feel that our leaders are failing us. Some have turned against their neighbours, their friends..."

     "Their Kin." Galurk finished. "The Iron Horde will rise again now that we are fighting amongst ourselves instead of securing our borders and our people's safety. We have heard tell they are already electing new leaders to advance on the clans and peoples of Draenor. We will not be able to fight both the Void and the Iron Horde."

San'ti delivered the final blow. "Drek'thar says it is the will of the Void Lords that the people turn against each other. This will enable them to break through into our reality and take form. Then, they will sweep across our lands and vapourize it."

Khadgar dragged a hand over his face. This was not just dire news it was terrifying.

A deep rumble of laughter from behind had the Archmage turn to face Illidan. The orcs also looked over at the demon hunter. His laughter had unnerved them.

     "What is so amusing, Illidan?" Khadgar asked, his face betraying a look of annoyance.

     "The Void is our only worry, not this Iron Horde you speak of."

     "Hardly encouraging," Khadgar quipped.

Illidan stepped towards the Archmage and the orcs. "Khadgar, for millennia we have fought each other, fought amongst ourselves, horde versus alliance, this is nothing new."

     "What is your point?" Khadgar asked.

Illidan moved directly in front of the orcs. "This Iron Horde will be coerced in the same manner as your people are currently being manipulated. For this time, it will become orc against orc, draenei against draenei, elf against elf, all races against each other regardless of faction. Your shaman, this Drek'thar, should be asking,  _what_ has brought the Void to our world now? And,  _why_  has it come to  _your_  time."  

 

 

The Archmage paled. Obvious questions indeed. The answer, however, to the last question was dawning on him as the silence in the room grew deafening.  The orcs were looking at him, expecting an answer. Their eyes flitted, nervously between him and Illidan as the demon hunter seemed preternaturally calm. Khadgar suddenly turned and headed for the door.

     "Where are you going? We need answers." San'ti called after him stepping towards the door also. Galruk grabbed her arm, pulling her back.

     "I will have them for you, but I need to speak with the Council first. Just stay here and I will return soon."

The orcs nodded reluctantly.

Illidan moved out after Khadgar, Uda following behind this time. "What do you hope to achieve by speaking with your council?" Illidan asked. His tone carried a hint of revulsion.

The Archmage spun round facing the demon hunter. "Their input may be invaluable. This is no ordinary foe we face Illidan, this is going to make the Legion look like a Hallow's End Candy Treat." He faced forward again and brusquely walked to the door that led to the basement.

     "I ask again, what do you hope to achieve by speaking with your council?"

Now both back in the basement, Uda closed the secret door and turned to join them. Wanathan was just finishing up cleaning the spilt ale. Uda barked at him to get back upstairs, then excused herself.

     "Thank you, Uda," Khadgar said as she climbed the stairs. "I will see you are rewarded."

She stopped and bent down to look at him through the balustrade. In a quiet voice she answered. "By what I could gather from in there..." she jerked her chin to the secret door. "...the only reward I want, is for life to continue."

Khadgar nodded. Her comment was justified. He watched as she ascended the last stairs. Turning, he started to conjure a portal.

     "Wait!" Illidan said.

     "What!" Khadgar was irritable, but it was not at Illidan and he mouthed a silent apology.

     "Why the council?"

     "Tell me what it is you object to, Illidan. They are highly intelligent, very learned and powerful people. We will need to study this Void from our extensive resources and then we can plan how best to defend ourselves."

Illidan laughed out loud. "You intend to sit around drinking tea and reading books?"

Khadgar was suddenly so incensed he could not speak.

Illidan continued. "You claim to be a forward-thinking man, Khadgar. You say you stand for the factions to work together, to create a united front against Azeroth's enemies. I suggest then you show an example of that policy, starting with your council."

     "It is the Kirin Tor, Illidan, and the world's most powerful mages sit at its head."

Illidan scoffed. " And you do what? Sit in your pompous Chamber of Air in the Violet Citadel with your cronies around you, studying magic, reading books and training new mages.  All they do is debate, think, and debate some more."

     "Sometimes Illidan, you need to think before you act. And  _sometimes_ even think before you  _speak_ too."

Again Illidan laughed. He was not in the slightest bit irked by the Archmage's attempt at reprimand. "The council used to be multiracial and although one, in particular, ended up _annoying_ me somewhat, it nonetheless was a more progressive council. Now you have all human's except for Kalecgos, but even he is more human than Blue Dragonflight nowadays. You have clipped his wings well, Archmage."

Khadgar was aghast at the demon hunter's outspokenness against the Council of Six.

     "And just who are you to question the authority or the policies of the Kirin Tor? You are but a one-time elf who drank from a skull to give you wings."

Illidan sneered, his fangs clearly on show and his taloned hands clenched. " _You_ , little mage, know nothing about me nor of what I am truly capable of.  I have an unsurpassed skill in arcane and if it came to the test, I would wipe the floor with your puny council."

     "Are you threatening me, Illidan?"

The demon hunter inclined his head and took a step back. "No, Khadgar. I consider you a friend and as such, I should able to express my opinion without you taking offence. But mayhap this is an example as to the reach of the Void."

The Archmage scrunched up his eyes, trying to fathom Illidan's meaning. The demon hunter explained. "It will turn friends against each other, brothers will come to loggerheads, and even lovers may turn into enemies. It is how the void works. It drains our hopes and feeds us negativity. It is shadow, dark, unseeing, without optimism and ultimately leads to nothing."  He paused to see his words sinking into one of the most powerful men he knew. "Set your council the task of researching if you wish but, there are others out there Khadgar, outwith your council, who know more about the Void than you can ever hope to find out in a book.  I am one of those you need. And there is one more we will require, who will help us connect with the others."

Khadgar looked up to the runecloth eyemask. He was right about one thing, research took time, and time was something they most likely did not have. He exhaled loudly, a sign that he understood Illidan's logic. "Who is this other then?"

Illidan laughed lightly. "Sarah, of course."


	14. Dreams

 

**_Music: House of the Spirit || Ah*Nee*Mah_ **

A kaleidoscope of butterflies erupted in front of her. A myriad of vibrant and pastel hues, she could hear their tiny wings beating as they buffeted, swirled and soared. They filled her vision. No matter where she looked the multi-coloured wings fluttered around her. She felt safe. Cocooned.

Suddenly a hand breached the satin wall grabbing her arm and she was pulled forth. Now an enormous serpent, coiled around a dagger, was in front of her. It's tongue flicked the air as it wound its way around the blade then came towards her, it's powerful muscles propelling it across the stone floor of an elaborate chamber. It rose menacingly in front of her, yet she did not feel fear. Instead, she felt resolute, focused. She placed a hand on the side of its face, almost tenderly, and traced her fingers around its jaw. The tongue flicked again, this time connecting with her skin.

She gazed into its eyes. Its  _human_  eyes - brown, blazing, lustful. She looked deeper and saw a reflection. Was it her own? The face was blurry but it was a female form certainly. She sensed it  _was_  her, and in that same instant, she saw the image bringing forth a dagger. She heard a distant scream as the dagger was thrust into the serpent's eye. It recoiled from her then froze, utterly immobilised. She saw its eye fill with blood and suddenly she was within the wall of butterflies again. Safe.

The wings shifted, parted, creating an opening.  A beautiful meadow stretched before her. She inhaled the sweet scent of ... peacebloom and mageroyal? She felt her face smiling. Fingers brushed the underside of her hand. Turning she saw a boy. His black hair, long and silky was tied up in a high knot. The bright green eyes and beautiful mouth caused her heart to skip a beat.  She smiled at the grassy smudges on his cheeks. 

He inched forward. The butterflies rose again this time encapsulating them both within their satin embrace. The boy's mouth pressed softly against hers and then... they were swirling, tumbling, soaring on the wings of their tiny protectors.

Her bliss came to a brutal finale. Now she stood next to a fallen tree. That boy, that ebony-haired boy was now a man, but he was dying. His body was torn and mutilated. As he turned his face towards her she started to scream. The debilitating pain of loss she felt was tantamount to a most heinous torture. Her screams and wails escalated, their tone altering from an echoing other-wordly distance rapidly growing in volume until they hit deafening.

_"Bernie!"_

She heard someone calling out. Bernie? Was that her name?  Still, the image of that boy, that injured man was emblazoned on her mind.

_"Bernie! Wake up!"_

She saw her arms reaching up, her fingers like claws trying to find the source of that voice. But the wounded man still haunted her, the pain of losing him, so fierce. With one desperate push forward she reached out again. Her lungs filled to bursting as she felt her body jettison upwards. She saw a light. It was a mere speck but growing larger by the millisecond.

_"Bernie! You're dreaming."_

She was almost there. A face was waiting for her. She so hoped it was the ebony-haired man, all healed, perfect again.  Almost there. She felt a force on her back giving her that final push and with everything she had, she screamed, "Camnath!"

Her eyes burst open and she sat up with such force her head spun. She felt an arm around her shoulders. She shirked away from it, flailing her arms to ward it off.

     "Bernie. It's me! Mel."  Her flatmate was down on his hunkers beside her, his voice laden with concern.  He leaned down further trying to catch her eye.  She clasped her hands over her face, her head shaking in denial.  These dreams had escalated over the last couple of months, but this one seemed to have been the most vivid yet.  Gently, he put his arm around her again and this time she didn't flinch from him.  "What's wrong, Bernie? Is it something from your childhood that plagues you?"  His voice was soft, caring.

Bernie shook her head more. "No," she mumbled. "Nothing from my childhood. Nothing like -  _this_ \- at all,  _ever_! "

Mel sat himself down.  In one way he was relieved there were no dark secrets.  He had thought for long enough there was something traumatic from her past that haunted her. "So what gives?"

She lowered her hands and looked at him. Her eyes were a little red. She had been crying.  "I don't know," she said, her voice but a whisper.  

     "Well, who, or what, is Camnath?"

Bernie frowned. "Camnath?" She tried to recall parts of the dream. Dreamlike images rippled in front of her mind's eye. "I - I think he was... an elf. A blood elf. He was – important to me.  Not me, but yes, me. I – I  _don't know_."

Mel sighed, his shoulders relaxed. Bernie stared at him, a frown creasing her brow, questioning. "Role-play!" he explained. "You've been dreaming about some role-play you were in." He smirked.

She vehemently shook her head. "No!"

     "Has to be Bernie. We all play it regularly enough for you end up dreaming it. Even I've done that."

     "These are not dreams, Mel!" she inveighed.  "They - start off okay - even nice sometimes.  But they end up in such a deep, incessant sorrow."

On his watch, Waquro had observed Bernie as she'd thrashed and cried in her sleep. Her mutterings and dream-filled movements had ebbed and flowed throughout the night. Sitting only a few feet from her with a small sharp blade in his hand he had been painstakingly whittling a small piece of wood for the past two and half hours. His small black eyes glittered from the remainder of the fire nearby. "They are memories," he said with aplomb.

     "She just  _said_ they aren't from her childhood." Mel emphasised.

The huge Tauren snorted, a low rumble sounding in his chest. "I did not say they were  _her_ memories." His characteristic basso profundo had a soothing timbre in the deep of the night.

     "Wh - " Mel's brows pinched. " _What_?" He shook his head in disbelief at what the Tauren implied.

Bernie, the incurable romanticist, however, was drawn to Waquro's words. She sat forward. "What do you mean, not mine?"

The Tauren put down the blade and the wood he had been working on. Bernie and Mel sensed something of a spiritual lesson coming. They were not far wrong. "It is the belief of some races that spirits may, on occasion live within a chosen host, sometimes to right a wrong, or prevent one from occurring."

     "Possession? I thought that was malevolent spirits out to create havoc or do mischief of some sort." Bernie said.

     "Not all bear evil intent, Bernie. For some, it is love that drives them to enter a living being. That love may be for another individual, their family, a nation or simply to honour their beliefs, their faith.

     "Spirits are curious things, often playful.  A few may have only achieved possession serendipitously. Many, you see, have to wait several lifetimes to be reborn to the physical world, and live out their anchored existence within another sentient being.  It is therefore tempting, I would imagine, to opt for a little frivolity between lives."  He studied the faces before him.  They were obviously considering what he had told them.

     "Bull  _shit_!" a voice from the shadows spat. "Oh, do excuse the pun, won't you?" Mick opined from his chosen sleeping spot. 

Bernie's head shot round. Seething at his disrespectful utterance and tone she snarled a response.  "Your rudeness is pissing me off!"

     "Oh really!" he replied, pushing himself up and walking, rather shakily, over to her. "Your stupidity and credulity are having the same effect on me, Bernie. You and bloody Warren Haynes here," he scoffed, pointing at Mel.  By all accounts, he seemed almost inebriated.

Mel grinned at the attempted insult to him.  "Give it up, Mick. Even you aren't brash enough to think your behaviour will be tolerated by our present company."  He looked towards the two orcs at the far side of the fissure. They lay snoring, utterly oblivious. Mel rolled his eyes.  _Well, that threat failed,_ he thought _._

     "Sit down!" Waquro ordered Mick, as he picked up his blade and wooden carving again.

     "Or _what_ , bull boy?" Mick said. He started gesturing to the Tauren in a non-too friendly manner. Waquro held his stare but did not react to the childish behaviour.

     "For god's sake, will you stop!" Bernie hissed at Mick. "Have you no concept of where we really are? Of what can happen to us? This is for  _real_ , Mick."

Mick stopped giving Waquro the double-handed one-finger salute. Spinning on his heel he gave Bernie a dismissive wave, then sauntered back to his part of the fissure, muttering under his breath. Mel and Bernie exhaled with relief as they heard him slump to the floor. It was short-lived, however.

     "You know something Bernie? I should have left you with your fuck-buddy Drew. You could both have been snuggling up to that boring old fart Khadgar and his pregnant bride, playing Hearthstone or something."

Bernie balled her hands into fists. Mel put a comforting hand on her arm before adding his contribution to the conversation. "Well, if you had, you would've been spider fodder before now, wouldn't you, Mick? You should be thanking Bernie, not trying to degrade her."

They waited a few moments. No more offensive chatter. It seemed Mick's little outburst had exhausted him and soft snores were all that came from his direction. The two flatmates turned their attention back to Waquro. They were surprised to find the Tauren laughing softly to himself. 

     "What?" Mel asked, struggling to suppress a smile at the sound of Waquro's mirth.

     " _Boring old fart_ ," Waquro laughed more. "I doubt the Archmage would be too enamoured at that description of his goodly self." He laughed again. "And a pregnant bride? Didn't think he had it in him." At that the Tauren guffawed, which sounded frightfully like a bovine call for "charge".

Mel and Bernie both laughed lightly along with him. "You the Archmage well?" Mel asked.

     "I've met him. A long time ago now it seems. It was when he first came to Frostfire." He continued with his carving as he spoke. "He is a good man. Very powerful and not just by means of magic. He has an exemplary diplomatic ability and is just and fair."

     "You admire him?" Bernie asked.

     "I do, yes." He resumed his more serious façade. "And how do you all know of him?"

At that, Mel and Bernie looked at each other. They were both thinking,  _what do we tell him_? Somehow, with Draenor not too distant from their current location (at least in game terms that was) the news that they too hailed from a different dimension wasn't going to sound all that far-fetched. How they actually knew a lot of details about Azeroth however, was an entirely different fixation altogether. With a sigh, Bernie turned back to the assiduous Tauren. "It is a rather long story, Waquro."

His meticulous carving complete, he held up a small totem, owl's head, feathers and all beautifully carved. He cut and yanked a thin strip from a small piece of leather he had at his side and tied it securely around the totem, putting a knot at the two ends. He handed it to Bernie. "This should provide a cessation to your dreams, for a while," he said. "Put it on."

She smiled and thanked him.

     "And now I suggest you sleep. Save your tale for tomorrow. It is a long trek to the Blasted Lands through the swamps and I wish for something to make the journey less tedious."

Bidding each other goodnight, they all settled down again and slept peacefully with the confines of the camp.

 

☸ 

 

Sarah lay awake, staring out of the open window at the waning moon. Sleep evaded her for three reasons. One, Drew had explained to her about Bernie and her two flatmates who had followed him through the portal. When Sarah had reacted captiously, Erik had decided to take his leave saying he would be back in an hour.

Sarah ranted at Drew when he'd explained how it all came about. She was spared the graphic details but obviously, Drew's brain had been somewhere other than where it was supposed to be when he met up with Bernie. Not to mention he was drunk and high so his mouth was also out of control. With his head hung low and staring at the floor, Sarah finally surceased once she realised how guilt-ridden he was over the whole affair.

Although he tried to dance around the topic, she also deduced he was really quite disappointed, if indeed not a bit hurt at the way things had turned out with this Bernie. In a bid to try and smooth things over with him and hopefully make him feel a little better, she said that Bernie couldn't be all that bad when she's picked out such lovely things for Ocel. Unfortunately, it didn't help Drew's mood much.

     "What's the worst that can happen?" she'd asked him, trying to get him to engage again. He shook his head and shrugged but remained silent.

     "Drew," she said, crossing over to where he sat. She nudged up next to him about to take his hand until she remembered the incident in the nursery. She lay her hands on her lap.  "I'm sorry. I guess I'm a still a bit crotchety with hormones and all."

He sighed, wringing his hands together. "No, you're right Sarah. I was a stupid bastard and I might well have started a chain of events that could..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "Oh, I don't know! But if they run into any trouble, or  _cause_ it – which they will, with that Mick in charge - it would serve  _him_  right if - " 

     "Hey, don't think like that. He sounds like a dork yes, but he's out of his depth here.  As for - what was his name?"

     "Mel. _He's_ an okay guy actually."

     "Well, Drew, we really don't want anything bad to happen to any of them.  But, they might come back to Stormwind anyway once they realise this is all very real indeed."

Still staring at the floor, he imperturbably moved his hand across and folded his fingers around hers.   An audible gasp escaped Sarah as a vision of a large room with lots of people in it flashed in front of her eyes. 

She heard the distant thrumming of another's heart and it seemed she was watching everything through someone else's eyes. She surmised it was a man as she saw a masculine hand extend to shake with someone else. 

The eyes lifted and she saw another man, one with platinum hair. He was well dressed in a silver-grey suit with a maroon cravat. He was immaculate in fact and quite handsome.  She derived the one whose view she had adopted did not particularly warm to the platinum-haired man however. 

The eyes turned to the right where the sparkle of tiny beads sewn on a black dress caught their attention. A young woman was glancing up at the eyes, full of love. She looked like...

 

 

Drew removed his hand and instantly the vision faded. The break in the connection made Sarah cry out. Drew turned and faced her. "What?" he panicked. "What did I do?"

She looked down at her hand. "Noth - nothing that you're aware of, I don't think," she said, trying to fathom what had happened for the second time that day.

     "What's that supposed to mean?"

She looked up at him.  God he looked tired.  _What on earth is going on with him_ , she wondered, deliberately not giving way to correcting herself and saying Azeroth instead. "Is there something you're not telling me, Drew?"

He turned away and once more she witnessed him wringing his hands.  She had never known him to be so unsettled, so agitated about something. He had always been the one out of the two to be the calming influence.  

     "There's little that would sound crazy to me Drew. I mean, look where we are and consider what we have both been through already."

He managed a semblance of a laugh, the trace of his smile still on his lips as he tilted his head to look at her.  "True, I guess."

     "Then come on. Spill it. Let  _me_ be  _your_ faithful puppy now."

He nodded and proceeded to tell her about the strange experience he had at the train station. He explained some of the peculiarities that had occurred afterwards, such as the unshakeable knowledge that he knew Bernie liked watching the cat in the park, that it  _meant_ something, though he knew not what.  And the feeling that there were memories locked away, deep inside him that he was convinced did not belong him.  He told of the last incident on his way to Erik's, when he was wide awake, walking!  The butterflies in a jar, the girl in the black dress that sparkled...

     "I saw her too!" Sarah said, wide-eyed.  "Just a moment ago when you took my hand." 

Drew looked almost relieved.  She had just given him confirmation that he was  _not_ going mad. "Did you see her face? There was  _something_ familiar about her but the visions faded before I got a good look at her."

She shook her head.  "No, only her dress.  Like you, things faded before I had a chance to see her.  There was another man though, with platinum hair.  And  - this must  explain the extra heartbeat!" She was excited by this revelation.  Now she could sense a spirit's heart?  "I'm pretty sure, however, going by what I did see and sense, it's from here.  Azeroth. It didn't feel like it was from our dimension."

She had lost Drew when she'd mentioned the heartbeat, but that wasn't important.  It seemed that spirits were quite ubiquitous beings and the interesting point here was the amplitude of their reach.  Not only did they remain within their own time and space, to reincarnte perhaps decades or centuries later, but they crossed over into other dimensions entirely.   A new interpretation on hitchhikers of the galaxy, she mused.  Furthermore, whoever Drew's 'guest' was,  she was certain that it was no fluke, he had selected him of all people to pervade. But why?   And was there a link in this with Bernie with whom he had sensed, albeit briefly, a perpetuity of some degree? 

By the time Erik returned for his house guest, Drew and Sarah were back to being good friends again.  She pondered more about the phenomena after they left, particularly when they hugged and she experienced no spiritual memories or feelings at all.  Perhaps they were only triggered when emotions were in turmoil, she did not know, but it was a relief to find that she wouldn't suffer an onslaught of images every time she and Drew shared a friendly hug.

The second reason for her insomnolence was  Khadgar's visit to Dalaran that evening. The Void or its potential threat at least had been brought to his attention by Illidan after his one patrols had chanced across two Frostwolf orcs.  By rights, they should not have been able to enter Azeroth.  Due to the Iron Horde's incongruity, the portal had been defused, preventing anyone entry to or from Draenor.   Somehow, it had been reactivated.

Having been party to the war against the Burning Legion, she had hoped it would be a long time indeed before they were faced with yet another threat to their existence.  Survival on Azeroth seemed to be continual challenge outwith the normal confines of daily life.  The humdrum problems of just getting from morning to night on earnings from employment, trade or thievery were commonplace and met without much difficulty.  But, it seemed they were destined to always engage in battle against some mega nasty in one form or another, on a relatively regular basis.  The game at least held true to that much.  The reality, however, was more terrifying that one could possibly imagine. And this beast, this enemy, was going to be the greatest terror of all.

Her thoughts drifted to her son, sleeping in the next room. How perfect he was.  So innocent, but with the world at his fingertips.  This morning, she had no doubt he would grow to be as important, influential and well respected as his father. Now, in the cold dark hours preceding dawn, the very real possibility that his young life could be snuffed out before it had even begun, settled over her like a mourner's veil.  Her heart contracted.  This was not going to be happy ever after she had envisioned.  Her breath caught in her throat and she stemmed an errant sob.

The distant swoosh and whirl of a portal in the hallway bespoke Khadgar's return.  A sigh of relief escaped her lips. She waited to hear their bedroom door creak further open. Instead, she heard the dull and final click of his study door closing. Therein lay her third reason for sleeplessness. The pillow beside her would remain empty this night.


	15. Pancakes & Syrup

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains sexual content

She sat in the rocking chair by the window, looking out over the city towards the harbour. Her eyes were nipping from both tiredness and many shed tears. As Ocel continued taking his morning feed, she tried her best not to be sulky. But her two consciences were not making it easy.

 _"It is not befitting considering recent developments_..." her little white naaru on her right shoulder chastised "...  _to dwell on such wanton pleasures."_

 _"Well, considering recent developments I would have thought he would have_ wanted _to engage in such wanton pleasures_ ," said the red naaru on the left.

 _"Be reasonable, the very ground on which we walk could be nigh on destroyed in coming months, weeks,_ days _even. The man has responsibilities_ ,"  whitey replied.

 _"Huh! And she is not considered a responsibility? Nay! Scratch that. He did_ promise _after all_ ," red huffed.

 _"This hardly even warrants discussion_ ,"  whitey tsked. " _Pathetic, if you ask me."_

 _"_ And  _he hasn't even bothered to come through and see her, nor his son this morning!"_

_"He has important things to see to no doubt. They will still be here when he's ready."_

_"Oh, will they now!"_

_"Stop! Now you are being simply petulant!"_

She shushed the naarus on hearing the study door open and close. Red however, managed a quick flippant remark as the door to the nursery opened.  " _Talk of the devil."_

This was not like Sarah. She was a sensible woman who understood the nature of his work and the effort required from him to do it to the best of his ability. So, why was she being so unreasonable about this?  _Was_  it hormonal? It didn't really matter what was at the root of it, to be honest, because it was how she felt,  and that was all there was to it.She glanced down at Ocel. Lightly she stroked his cheek with her fingertips.  _Mummy is an ill-natured woman today_ , she was trying to relay her thoughts to the infant.  _I'm being really petty and I know it, but still..._

Her naaru consciences vanished in a puff of empyrean vapour as Khadgar's hands gently squeezed her shoulders. He bent down and planted a kiss just below her ear. "Good morning," he said, his breath caressing a wisp of her hair. His voice was a tad somnolent.

     "Hmm," was all Sarah could muster. She did not respond in her usual manner, trembling at his touch and offering her lips for a 'proper' kiss. Instead she kept her eyes on her son.  She felt the fresh sting of tears biting under her lashes,  and chastised herself for being so irrational.  A soft glow pulsed from under her top, its brightness growing slowly but steadily. 

With another gentle squeeze of her shoulders and a soft massage she knew Khadgar had read the tell-tale signs. "I'm sorry," he said, ever so softly. "It was late when I returned, that's why I didn't wake you."

Furious at her mood being so easily deciphered, a tear escaped and was absorbed by Ocel's babygrow. Before she could stop herself, the bitter words dripped from her mouth. "Well, if you'd  _bothered_  to look in, you would have seen I was  _wide awake_."  Khadgar's fingers stilled then slipped to the back of the rocker.

Ocel had finished feeding and Sarah haughtily covered herself, then lifted Ocel to his cot, patting his back as she moved across the room. Without fail, after every feed he snoozed. Normally she had sometimes an hour in the morning before he woke again, ready for his day ahead. She turned to leave the room to ready herself for an outing she had decided to take him on.

Khadgar stood in her way.  She looked up, ready to be all defensive. In the blink of an eye, her foul mood was replaced by shame. He looked so tired, no doubt from his interviewing of the orcs and dredging through countless texts and books for solutions to the threat of the Void. How could she allow such selfish thoughts enter her head when he worked so hard at keeping everything safe, not only for the people of Azeroth but also for her and their son. She wrapped her arms around him, leaning her head on his chest. Guilty tears started to trickle now. How she hated being this way.

He held her close, allowing her to shed her tears. While she sobbed, his mind cast back to a only a week earlier. Brillyn had taken him aside when Sarah finally gave way to a little snooze the day of Ocel's birth. She'd warned him that he may find himself living with a real demon of a woman for a few months. She'd explained all about how some women went through severe mood swings, sometimes crying for no apparent reason, or being uncharacteristically sharp and irrational. It would pass, but he needed to understand it was real emotions she would be going through, and very much out with her control.

She said, "It is efter a', anither monumental change for hur body. For nine months she hus nurtured the babe within. He wis physically and spiritually part o' hur, she surrounded him, the ultimate maternal protection. But now, havin' gone through substantial pain birthin' him, she hus brought him intae a world where things could harm him. Psychologically, a mother gans through a sense o' fear and helplessness yince their babe is born, for now he is oot with the safety o' hur womb. She initially feels inadequate in hur ability tae protect him."

The dwarf midwife then took a sip of tea and a nibble of a plain biscuit, before continuing. "Oo baith ken, Khadgar, that she is a strong lass, and she wid fight tae the death tae protect him – and  _you_  nae doot ana', but it will take time for that Sarah tae emerge again. So..." Brillyn placed a reassuring hand on his forearm, "...bearing a' this in mind, know that some days she might be a beast o' a wuman, other days an emotional wreck.  _Div'nae_  however, tell hur it's jist hur hormones, wimen  _hate_  that, an' in hur case, she might blast ye across the sea to Kalimdor wi' her demonic ability thingy. Jist be patient and understanding.  _You_ , efter a', had the easy pirt in a' this."

He had needed to remind himself now and again of Brillyn's advice, but mostly, he had found it easy to put up with Sarah's mood swings. They had not been too difficult up to now. But, this morning she was definitely tetchy and he knew why. "I warned you living with me would not be easy at times," he said, his voice still soft, with a little humour.

     "No you didn't!" she mumbled into his tunic, knowing full well he had, right before their first ever kiss.  A half sob, half laugh followed but she kept her face buried in his chest.

     "Well - I  _meant_  to," he replied. He sighed deeply and pulled her tighter against him. "I do love you so, Sarah, never ever lose sight of that. But, when I romance you, I prefer there to be no distractions, so that I can be there in my entirety for you."

After a few moments, she mumbled again. "Even when you tell me I have to wait because you're preoccupied with the salvation of Azeroth, you still manage to make it sound sexy. So shut up, why don't you, other than telling me how things went with the orcs."

He couldn't help but smile. "Sexy, huh?"

She beat her fist on his chest and laughed lightly. "Now you're being cruel." Somehow, as he so often did, he had managed to completely defuse her grouchy frame of mind and pull her back from the brink of total emotional putrefaction.

He steered her out of the nursery and along the hallway to the kitchen. Once there he sat her down at the table, then proceeded to take simple flour and small eggs from a cupboard near the window and some ice cold milk from the cooler.  He grinned as he heard her disbelieving laughter and soft mutterings of " _Oh, sweet Elune, please no."_  His culinary skills had never been fully developed, however, he had been practising a surprise using a very reliable method which he  _was_  duly competent in. Magic. And it was a little treat he had been saving for a day such as today when her mood had been so dour.

Finding the ingredients had been easy, the utensils were another matter. He stood, thumb and forefinger toying with his chin as his eyes scanned the cupboards, wondering where the things he needed were concealed.

     "Bottom right," he heard her whisper. One crepe and grill pan found.

     "Top, second left," she navigated. Mixing bowl detected.

     "Drawer to the right," Spoon and spatula. All ready now.

He sat down beside her with a satisfied grunt. She raised a quizzical eyebrow. With a lop-sided smile and a nonchalant wave of his left hand, the flour, eggs and milk all sleekly found their way into the mixing bowl. Another twist of his fingers and the spoon started to mix them all together and a little seasoning was added.

He afforded himself a parabolic pat of congratulations as Sarah threw her head back, laughter tumbling easily from her mouth and her hands awarding him applause. He watched her intently as she ended up mesmerised while the batter mixture poured into perfect circles on the crepe pan and the spatula flipped them when it was time. The sound and smell of the bacon sizzling on the grill pan had her tongue running slowly across her top lip.  _That_  had almost been a critical distraction from his magical demonstration, but he recovered nicely when she shot him a knowing look.

With a final flourish, he dished up layers of pancakes and bacon then drizzled them in snowplum syrup and presented the plate in front of her with a fork. The look on her face had been  _so_  worth the effort. 

Sitting opposite and picking up the fork, he smirked as he pushed it through the tower of his culinary creation and offered a bitesize portion to her. She smiled and leaned forward. He teased her a little by pulling back. Her eyes flashed up to his, a mischievous sparkle rippling over them. She tried again and this time her lips closed around the offering then pulled back taking the food, chewing slowly, her eyes fervently fixed upon him. 

A soft sigh flowed from his lips as he watched the gentle movement of her throat when she swallowed. The corners of his mouth twitched. Suddenly, he wasn't so tired anymore.

She took the fork and presented him with some of the deliciousness. He cocked an eyebrow at her and sighed. "To hell with my waistline then," he said with a wry smile. She laughed softly.

They continued feeding each other, in silence, their eyes only breaking contact long enough to replenish the fork. Some of the sticky sweetness escaped and dribbled from the corner of her lip. She made to wipe it away but stopped when she saw him slowly shaking his head. He leaned over.  Cupping her chin in his hand, his tongue took care of the wayward syrup before his mouth covered hers.  Her fork made a reverberating tinging noise as it fell from her hand and bounced off the plate.

 

 

 

Both stood, leaning into the kiss, a new, more voracious hunger rising within them. With one hand he pushed their unfinished breakfast aside and then pulled her onto the table's surface. She knelt before him, hands on his shoulders still engaged in the deepest of kisses. Her white-gold luminescence spread from her like angelic wings and it wrapped around him like a shield. Her fingers moved up, pressing into his hair forcing his kiss to deepen. 

His hands pulled at the hem of her nightgown and slowly he traced his way up her inner thighs. He pulled back a little, his eyes drifting to the area he wanted exposed. "Oh, Sarah!" The urgency in his voice betrayed his longing.

He groaned as he found her lascivious opening ready to receive him. His fingers massaged her delectable clit, her shudders egging him on to do more. He acquiesced to her need,  _his_  need and he deftly lay claim to the taut bundle of sensitive nerve endings within her. He felt her grip on his hair tighten and release, kneading his scalp. As her orgasm hit her full force, she folded against him, weakened, panting. A few moments passed. "I love you," she gasped.

He lifted her. Quickly glancing behind to ensure his chair was within reach, he coiled his foot round its leg and dragged it to him. He sat, positioning her low on his lap. His fingers fumbled with the ties of his britches. She took over, expertly unknotting the leather thong. Freed from the restraints of his garments he grabbed her buttocks and eased her up. She reached down and positioned him against her warm, moist sex, then she let him lower her onto him. Their eyes locked, heat and desire plenteous as he controlled their love-making. She cried out, her head thrown back as he moved her hips rhythmically against his, holding her firmly, possessively. Within moments she was ascending again to the dizzying heights of another climax even though she was still recovering from her first. 

He felt her sex grip him from deep within, squeezing, wanting and it heralded a quick and plentiful release from him. With a deep groan, he buried his head between her breasts, inhaling her scent.

Gradually, they descended and met again in the familiar surroundings of their home. Her glow slowly etherized but her eyes were still bright, glistening with her desire. He watched her lips as they curved into a smile. Still a little breathless, she said, "I'd say you handle distractions very well indeed." He nuzzled her breasts planting small kisses and a sudden flick of his tongue across her still pert nipples caused her to tremble. "That was the most amazing foreplay ever," she continued. "You 're cooking breakfast every day from now on."

He laughed and pulled her to him again. As his breathing settled back to a regular rhythm, he experienced a flush of guilt. Their love-making was, as always, incredible, sublime, but he had hidden behind its divinity. It had removed broaching the subject of his meeting with the orcs, or more accurately, the argument with Illidan and the demon hunter's revelation. As always, Khadgar's main objective was to keep Sarah safe. And now, their son was added to his agenda. He would not allow anyone or anything to jeopardise their survival.

He had to devise a way of finding out what she knew about the Void, if indeed what Illidan inferred was accurate. If so, it meant she was one of the key players in helping to defeat the Void. But it needed to be done in such a way that she would not go charging out to battle. Their son needed her, she  _could not, must not_  risk her life or leave Ocel.

As if fate agreed with him, Ocel's cries reached their ears. Both he and Sarah were a little reluctant to break their physical contact, but they equally knew their son needed her attention. A groan escaped him as she released him from within her. With a parting kiss, full of promise, she left the kitchen to tend to their son. He loosely fastened his britches and with yet another spell he sent the dishes to the sink where they were washed and placed on the drainer.

Weariness overcame him once more, and he moved through the house to their bedroom. Shedding his clothes he climbed into bed, enjoying how Sarah's scent surrounded him as he pulled the sheet over his abdomen. Arm behind his head, he lay a few moments glancing out of the window at the blue sky and its promise of a bright new day. He felt a tightening of his heart as fear washed over him. This enemy, this Void, was more powerful than anything they had fought yet. It could strip men of their ambitions, their loyalties, their beliefs, their honour. Their hope. These were essential things which they had to possess in order to fight for their homes, families, friends. For Azeroth.

The Void was a shadow, dark, rapacious, unforgiving, unrelenting and completely and utterly hell bent on snuffing out the light that represented Azeroth and her people.

For the first time in his life, he felt truly inadequate.

 

☸

 

Sarah had lifted Ocel and placed him on the changing table where she started to undo his nappy. She had cleaned him and was folding a new nappy out on the table when she thought she heard voices, arguing.  She looked around, trying to gauge where they came from.  At first, she thought it was someone in the street below, but on looking out the window she found no-one in the vicinity.

 _"Wait!"_ The voice was faint but there was enough familiarity in its timbre to recognise it as Illidan's.

 _"What!"_ She staggered back a little as she recognised Khadgar's voice. He was angry. With Illidan? Why?

She moved back to Ocel, who was chortling happily, his little bum free of a nappy. She was straining to hear more of this conversation she had somehow contravened. From where though? Illidan was not here and Khadgar was ... Couldn't be! Finally? Without effort?

She quickly fastened Ocel's nappy and finished dressing him, then with him held against her, she moved to the hallway. She saw the door of their bedroom slightly open. He must have gone to lie down. Very carefully, she peered through the doorjamb. There he lay, looking out the window, a look of deep concern creasing his brow. She closed her eyes, hoping it would somehow help to channel his thoughts. In a moment she opened them again. How could she! It was as bad, well  _worse_ actually than reading his journals back in Dalaran before the war with the Burning Legion.

She turned to go back to the nursery.

 _"You claim to be a forward-thinking man, Khadgar..."_ She stopped. It was Illidan's voice again.

 _"It is the Kirin Tor, Illidan, and the world's most powerful mages sit at its head."_ Why was Khadgar having to defend the Kirin Tor?

 _" And you do what? Sit in your pompous Chamber of Air in the Violet Citadel with your cronies around you, studying magic ..."_ Sarah was becoming unnerved. It seemed the two of them were not seeing eye to eye.

 _"_ You _, little mage, know nothing about me nor of what I am truly capable of. I have an unsurpassed skill in arcane and if it came to the test, I would wipe the floor with your puny council."_ Sarah gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth. They  _could not, must not_ argue this way. They had to remain united.

She quickly returned to the nursery and started getting things together for her outing with her son. Glancing down at herself, she realised she was still in her nightgown.  _Oh, bugger!_  That meant she had to go into their room to get dressed. Not wanting to disrupt Khadgar's rest by asking him to watch Ocel while she dressed, she put her son back in his cot. "Mummy will be only a few minutes," she said to him, planting a finger kiss on his forehead. His little face broke into a smile.

She tiptoed back to their bedroom, thinking perhaps Khadgar was sleeping now. Having just reached the door, another part of the conversation invaded her mind.  _"Are you threatening me, Illidan?"_ Her breathing hitched.

 _"No, Khadgar. I consider you a friend and as such, I should able to express my opinion without you taking offence..."_ She could not help but sigh with relief.

 _"Set your council the task of researching if you wish but, there are others out there Khadgar, out with your council, who know more about the Void than you can ever hope to find out in a book. I am one of those you need. And there is one more we will require, who will help us connect with the others."_ Her interest was piqued.

As inconspicuously as she could she entered their room and went to the wardrobe. She glanced over at the bed. His eyes were closed. She pulled on some soft blue hexweave pants and a matching tunic. Now she was betwixt hoping he was resting and yet wanting to hear more of the conversation. She tied a belt around her tunic, trying to delay her leaving the room. Nothing more was forthcoming. Resigned that he must have actually dozed off she moved back to the door.

 _"Who is this other then?"_ Khadgar's past voice startled her and she shot out the door on tiptoes. Short rapid breaths passed her lips as she waited just outside.

Then she heard the demon hunter's laugh.  _"Sarah, of course."_

She glanced back towards the door, stunned. But what she heard next, made her heart contract.

_"I cannot, will not let her fight. She has to watch over Ocel. I must not let her know of this."_


	16. Recruitment

 Walking through Stormwind with Ocel strapped to her in the baby sling, Sarah tried to focus on anything other than the last words Khadgar had thought before sleep took him. She stopped at various stalls, some of which were actually offering nothing whatsoever that she wished to buy, but it just kept her mind occupied on different things. She had decided to go visit Erik and Gwen. Drew would be there as well and he would understand her way of looking at this recent  _shock_  discovery. Until she reached the cottage on the outskirts of the city, however, she needed distracted so that she wasn't a bad-tempered and equally foul-mouthed individual in charge of an infant. Not a good combo, no matter what.

She made her way over the bridge to the canals and headed for Gallinas, the wine shop which stocked Dalaran Noir. It was a fruity but fairly weak wine, however, Gwen favoured it and so that's what Sarah decided to buy for her. Next, she thought to try and locate Thomas Miller the roaming baker. If she listened, she would soon hear him shouting out his bargains for the day.

Ocel chortled away in his sling, looking up at her now and again as she greeted passers-by with smiles and cheery salutations. A number of them stopped to speak, all ooh-ing and ahh-ing at Ocel's little smiling face. Well, he smiled that was until a worgen approached. He happened to be the very warrior, Elias Buckley, who fought alongside Drew against the Burning Legion. When he stopped to say hello in his wolf form, he nearly scared the life out of Ocel.

Citizens stared as the babe screamed uncontrollably. Sarah tried to comfort him and quickly told Elias to show his more sedate side to Ocel. After a series of cracks, snaps and other noises of a body altering shape, the worgen morphed into its human Gilnaen form; an average man with a kindly but weather-beaten face, framed by light brown hair and a beast of a moustache which trailed down to his jawline. Gradually, Ocel quietened.

"I am so sorry, Sarah, I didn't mean to scare the lad," Elias said, very embarrassed.

With Ocel now calm and starting his happy chortle again, she wasn't too put out. "No need to apologise Elias. He will have to get used to worgens anyhow. Give him time."

Elias smiled as Ocel grabbed onto his finger. "He has a fine grip, he does."

"Yes, and he is often reluctant to let go." She watched as the Gilnaen man waggled his finger, playing with her son, who as she predicted, wasn't for letting go. "Oh, by the way," she said to Elias. "Drew has returned for a visit."

"Has he now?" Elias beamed. "I will have to catch up with him then. Is he staying with you and Khadgar?"

"No, he's at Erik's. I'm on my way there now actually once I get hold of Thomas Miller."

"I saw Thomas but a few minutes ago in Trade."

As if on cue, Sarah heard the familiar intonations of the baker nearing them. She looked along the length of the alley that separated the canals from Trade District and there he was, about to make his way around the back lane. She waved to catch his attention. "Thomas!"

He stopped mid-chant and looked down the alley. With a broad smile on his ruddy face, he nodded and smoothly changed direction, mindful not to lose any of his wonderful bakery goods from the large woven tray he carried. A thick leather harness held it securely in place and fastened around his back and shoulders. This enabled him to serve the public without the goods slipping from the tray.

"Mornin' Sarah," he said with a flourish, embellishing his cordial musical delivery.

"Thomas," she smiled.

Elias moved aside with Ocel still refusing to let go of his finger. The boy was fascinated by his new friend who now kept making funny faces at him.

"And what be ye wanting this fine mornin'," Thomas asked Sarah.

"Well, I'm going to see Erik and I was hoping you have..."

"His favourite banana bread?" Thomas grinned, his eyes sparkling, head nodding with that 'in the know' look on his face. He took great pride in remembering his customers' favourite breads and pastries.

"Indeed," she smiled as he picked one up and secured it's wrapping before handing it to her. "May I also have some of those delicious spiced croissants," she asked, pointing them out.

"Certainly, Sarah and how many be ye wantin'?"

Sarah turned to Elias. "Are you able to join us at Erik's just now?"

The Gilnaen was still making Ocel giggle with his endless array of gawkish expressions and looked a little embarrassed when he realised both Sarah and Thomas were staring at him. He cleared his throat. "Erm, thank you but I have errands to run this day. Please do, however, tell Drew I will be up tomorrow or the day after."

"Of course I will Elias. It was good to see you."

"Likewise, Sarah." He turned back to Ocel, who had never taken his eyes off the Gilnaen. "And you little man, you look out for your mama, now won't you?" He waggled his finger trying to gently free it from Ocel's grip. "Think my finger is numb now," he said to Sarah with a smile.

She managed to get Ocel's attention by shaking his rattle and finally he released Elias' digit. The Gilnaen said his farewells, affording Sarah polite obeisance before he turned towards the lane that ran north along the canals. She watched as he morphed back into his worgen form and bounded on all fours to his destination. She faced Thomas again. "That will be four then please, Thomas."

"Four spiced croissants coming up," he smiled.

She placed them, along with the banana bread into her basket and fished out her money pouch. Dropping silver in his hand, she thanked him and made her way up through the alley he had come from. She smiled as she heard him announcing his produce to the public whilst he continued along the canals.

She loved Stormwind. The buzz in the city had returned full swing since the end of the war against the Burning Legion, and it was so good to see hope and happiness on the citizens' faces again. Restoration work was still being carried out on some of the parts of the city, but it was all coming together nicely. It was looking new, shiny and clean again.

The sun filtered through the filmy canopy of clouds, forming a rainbow to the north-west of the city at the harbour, where a brief shower must have fallen but moments ago. Thankfully the rain did not venture inland, instead, it took itself off over The Great Sea.

The hustle and bustle of the Trade District provided a sense of reassurance, hope, gaiety and camaraderie. She may have been imagining it, but it seemed that everyone got on just that little bit better nowadays. Perhaps their pulling together when their lives depended on it had somehow made them realise petty differences were exactly what they said on the tin. Pointless. _Long may it continue_ , she thought.

Flower beds were all showing off their vibrant colours of spring and the scents from the flora mingled with the homely smells coming from the bakeries, and the enticing aromas of ham, eggs and exotic coffees from the inns as they still served up breakfasts to their patrons. Birds sang as they flitted between the branches of the budding trees and saplings. It was delightful.

A little girl suddenly ran straight into Sarah, the impact causing the girl to stagger back then fall on her behind. Her face instantly started to crumple, more from embarrassment than being hurt. Sarah put her basket down, then knelt to the little girl, one hand cradling Ocel's head in his sling. "It's okay," she said softly, hoping to prevent the girl's threatening tears from bursting forth.

"Luna! Watch where you're going, child!" A woman came running towards them. When her eyes flashed recognition of who the girl had run into she blanched. "Oh! I do apologise Miss..." Her eyes flitted to Ocel. "I mean, Madam...erm, Mistress Khadgar, oh dear!"

Sarah tried to suppress a laugh. Had she not once asked the man himself if there was a Mrs Khadgar? She had almost drowned in embarrassment once it spilt from her mouth, but it was all she could think to name his wife if he'd had one. Now, this woman was in the same predicament but calling Sarah by the name. "Sarah is just fine," she said, smiling while she helped the girl to her feet. She patted down the girl's petticoats and straightened her lemon dress, brushing away the powdered dirt from the fabric.

"Oh!" the girl exclaimed. "You are the demon lady?" Bright blue eyes beamed from under her blonde lashes and her golden ringlets bobbed softly as she bounced excitedly on her toes.

Sarah blinked, quite taken aback by the question. "Erm, demon  _hunter_ , yes."

"Luna!" the woman chastised again then looked back at Sarah. "I apologise, she is such a nosey child who does not know her manners. I will tell her mother of this when I get her home." The woman was wringing her hands nervously.

"It's quite alright," Sarah assured her. "She is doing no wrong." She turned back to Luna.

The girl was looking at her curiously. "You don't look like a demon hunter. Where are your horns and your wings?"

"I'm a different kind of demon hunter," Sarah explained. She lowered her collar a little to show some of the tattoos. "I do have the markings though."

Luna eyes widened. "Is it true you beat the big fiery one?"

"You mean Sargeras?"

Luna nodded.

"I played only a part in it, but there were many others involved, including King Varian and Prince Anduin."

"That scary one they call the Betrayer too, I heard."

The child's guardian caught her breath, obviously mortified at her audacity to speak of such things.

Sarah smiled. "Yes, but Illidan is not only Lord of the Demon Hunters, a great sorcerer and defender of Azeroth, he is - well... will I tell you a secret about him?"

Luna nodded enthusiastically and leaned closer so Sarah could whisper. Sarah bent towards the little girl's ear but spoke loud enough for her guardian to hear. "He is really a pussycat at heart. He looks scary, but he is kind, and a lot of people did him a great injustice for many, many years."

Luna's eyes were so wide now that they looked like they might pop from her head. "What's an inj – injus – in..."

"A great wrong," Sarah explained. "They said he was something which he was not."

The girl pursed her lips, thinking for a moment. She then leaned to Sarah's ear. "You mean like when Estelle says I'm nosey with no manners?" she whispered, nudging her head in the guardian's direction.

"Yes, but that's between us, okay?" Sarah whispered back, just for Luna's ear.

Luna smiled widely. "I like you Missus Khadgar. Estelle likes your husband by the way. I think many ladies do. I hear them talking when they are doing needlepoint."

"That is  _enough_  Luna!" Estelle said rather shrilly, obviously utterly embarrassed her crush had been disclosed to none other than  _Mrs_  Khadgar.

Sarah guffawed. Oh, the innocence of children. They said it like it was. She was not about to confuse the child however by telling her Khadgar was not her husband. "Well then, it must mean I have the most handsome man in Stormwind."

"In Azeroth, the ladies say," Luna confirmed as her eyes dropped to Sarah's basket. "Oh! Croissants!"

Estelle tsked loudly, which made Sarah grin all the more, though she desperately tried to conceal it. "Would you like one?" she asked Luna.

"Yes please!"

"There you go then," Sarah handed one of the croissants to her. Luna's slim fingers curled around the pastry.

"Thank you, Missus Khadgar."

Sarah stood upright and gently arranged Luna's ringlets that had ended a little awry from her fall. "You are most welcome Luna. It has been a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

"Likewise."

Sarah watched as the still embarrassed Estelle led her ward away, rather hurriedly, and disappeared up the lane towards the opening to Cathedral Square. Sarah glanced down at Ocel, whose baby blues looked back up at her. "Seems daddy still has it," she said to her son with a small laugh. "I think I might have be on my guard." With a gentle kiss on his forehead, Sarah proceeded with her walk to Erik's cottage.

As she rounded the gates at The Valley of Heroes and out onto the bridge that exited the city, she couldn't help but smile when she saw only the feet, part of the robe and the base of his staff were all that remained of the statue of Khadgar along the promenade. It had been a representation of his 'older' self following the defeat of his master and eventual friend, the Guardian Medivh.

It had never been a very flattering likeness, he'd claimed, even when he  _was_  the wizened old man of days gone by. Sarah had to agree and she was pretty sure Estelle and her friends would be of the same opinion. Now, he was a handsome, strong, almost regal man, the ageing curse having lasted its apparent lifespan before rejuvenation began its journey back in time so-to-speak.

He had spent time, many years ago, he'd told her, searching for spells to end the cruel hand that fate dealt him; or rather, the spell which Medivh had cursed him with. He had never been truly successful, he did not think, anyhow. He had just woken one day and found that some brown age spots had lessened on his hands. Over a period of about two years, his face and body gradually regained its youth and vitality. Granted, he had spent too long in the body of an old man to be returned to the age when he was originally cursed, but it had all seemed to rectify itself by the time he hit his early thirties.

She grinned again remembering some of the entries in his most private of journals which she had, ashamedly, read during her 'incarceration' in Dalaran. He'd made up for lost time when it came to affairs of the heart. They left him guilt-ridden mostly, although it had not stopped him from trying.

Finally, he had found love, with her. And happiness; he was now a family man. One who dared to try and keep vital information from her though, she reminded herself a little bitterly. Fair enough, she desperately tried to convince herself he was doing it for all the right reasons, as  _he_  saw it, but it was still wrong. This, she would prove to him.

In order to keep her displeasure at bay about the matter, she allowed her mind to recall his wonderful breakfast that morning. She sighed, a wash of delectable desire coursed through her. Who could not love a man who did that for his woman? The smile faltered slightly as she admitted it may have been tainted slightly by his deliberate attempt at dodging the subject of his meeting with the orcs and the potential danger they reported.

She glanced down at Ocel to find him with his eyes now closed. He did like a sleep. She felt her heart swell at the sight of his little contented, slumbering features. Who knows, she thought, just maybe, this morning might have led to a little sister or brother starting their journey into Azeroth. She wondered if the light of the naaru which she had been imbued with, perhaps increased her fertility. Not that, going by last time, she needed a great deal of help in that area.

Her smile then faded completely as another thought came to mind. If The Void, as Khadgar had surmised,  _was_  coming their way, then perhaps another child would not be the best thing to hope for right now.

With a bit more determination in her stride, she set off again towards the cottage.

As she crested the top of the hill path, she saw Gwen outside mercilessly beating a rug. It was draped over a taut line stretched from an iron hook on the edge of the cottage to a tree that stood sentinel overlooking the meadow below. With each thwack she gave it, Gwen let out an almighty grunt. Clouds of dust billowed up and out from the rug.

"You're doing a fine job there Gwen," Sarah shouted as she neared the dwarf.

On hearing the voice behind her, Gwen twisted round. A sweet smile that was accentuated by deep dimples lit up her face. "Sarah! Oh! And ye've brought the bairn!" She immediately threw the mattenklopper aside and strode over to Sarah. "Oh, this is joyous!" she beamed. Her face betrayed a little disappointment that Ocel was sleeping, but Sarah assured her he wouldn't be for long, it was probably just with the motion and her warmth that he had succumbed to a snooze.

 

 

"Hi!"

She turned to the door and there was Drew leaning up against the frame watching them. Sarah suppressed a smirk as his five-eleven frame almost filled the doorway. Judging by the look in his eyes, he hadn't had a particularly restful night, and she couldn't help but wonder if his 'guest spirit' had been plaguing his dreams.

There was a transpicuous sadness behind his eyes. An uncontrollable urge to go over and hug him for the longest time washed over her. Though they now literally lived worlds apart, he was still her best friend and anything which troubled or upset him would concern her too.

_What the hell!_ She removed the baby sling and passed Ocel to Gwen who was over the moon to be holding the baby. Then, downing her basket she strode over purposefully and threw her arms around her friend. He clung to her, head buried in her neck. Both taking comfort in the embrace, their friendship had just been reinforced.

"I really need to talk," she mumbled into his T-shirt.

"Yeah, I think we both do."

Gwen understood the connection between them; Drew had spoken at length last night about it. Besides, an opportunity to babysit was right up her street, even if it was only for a little while. "Off ye's go now, huv a wee blether. Erik's hunting the now, but he'll back sin enough. And ah've got mair visitors due soon whae ah'm shair ye'll baith be delighted tae see, but it's a surprise, so off ye go." She then hurriedly took Ocel and the basket of goodies into the house. Sarah and Drew wondered who was coming but made their way a little further up the hill for some short-term privacy.

They stopped at the small rise overlooking the meadow and beyond, to the mountainous north. A tree offered a little shade from the now bright sun, and something for the two of them to relax against while they spoke.

"Before I forget, I met your 'brother in arms' the worgen, Elias Buckley in town. He said will come to visit you tomorrow or the day after." Sarah told Drew.

Drew recalled fighting next to the warrior during the war with the Burning Legion. "I'm surprised he remembers me."

"He never forgot how well you fought together. He always asks for you so he is delighted to hear that you're back."

He smiled. He was suitably flattered that he had made an impression on a warrior worgen no less.

So," Sarah started. "You look tired. Bad night?"

Drew almost took her hand but thought twice about it in case of the spiritual visions. She nevertheless was willing to take the risk, and as her fingers curled under his they were relieved to find it was just their two selves who were present. "No, no.  _You_ first," he said.

She didn't need to be persuaded. With a sigh, she began to explain how the power which she had been imbued with, not only enabled her to hear heartbeats of those close by but now she was also able to read people's minds. It was something she had been experiencing for a few months but all had been garbled and incoherent; until this morning when she tuned into Khadgar's thoughts. She revealed what she'd 'heard' and how it made her feel.

Drew squeezed her hand. "Sarah, the man loves you, and your son. You are both vital to him. It was never clearer to me than last night when I visited you. I saw how he looks at you – and Ocel. And I see the same in your eyes for him."

Sarah's mouth twitched at the corners. She had not considered Drew would observe such a thing. Nor had she expected it would be Drew who hammered home that no matter what, Khadgar's reason for trying to keep information from her regardless how pissed off she was about it, truly was out of his love for her and their son.

Drew continued carefully. He'd had a turbulent onslaught of emotions last night, attacked in dreams from every angle. He'd got out of bed and ended up talking into the wee small hours with Gwen, explaining the friendship he valued with Sarah.

A lot of old feelings had risen again along with some new, more powerful ones which had left him surprised to say the least. One thing he knew he could not divulge to Sarah, was how he  _had_ felt about her. Having seen her and Khadgar last night, he could never confess now, it would be both pointless and unkind. It was strange to think that he had literally gone from believing he was in love with her one day to - well - having strong feelings for someone else, who,  _annoyingly_  - kept coming into his mind.

He took a deep breath. "This is probably going to sound all mixed up, and in truth it is, but here goes." Another deep breath was taken. "At the time, it was difficult for me to try return to normal, knowing that you were –  _here,_  of all places and with Khadgar, expecting his baby! It um, it hit me hard - my best friend was never coming back to our "reality". I'm fine with it now, though -  _oddly_." He swallowed, then continued.  "But this is where it gets weird. In one day, I went from being miserable, missing you being around, to finding ..." He stopped. Exhaling loudly, he ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling it somewhat making it look all wild and unkempt. He was struggling to describe all these strange emotions.

She leaned her head against his shoulder. "Bernie?" she finished for him.

"Yeah," he breathed. "But Sarah, it is so –  _complicated_. Uncertain. I – I  _do_ and I  _don't_ care for her. I think." He paused again.  "I feel some kind of weird connection but then I believe she just – used me to get here." He scooted round so he was facing her. "With you and Khadgar it is crystal clear. I can see it a mile away, the two of you are so wrapped in each other; you  _connect_. And his reluctance to tell you what is going on, I can understand why. He's terrified of losing you. You and Ocel. I _get_ that, I really do. But – what I'm going through? Well, it feels like it's not just  _me_  anymore – it's like I am having – two lots of emotions. Like I'm two people." A forced slightly bitter laugh fell from his lips. "Am I schizophrenic or something?"

"No!" She tugged on his arm. "I think it's the spirit in you." She simply said.

"In an odd way, that's all I hope it is. I still don't know who he is though. But I feel he loved someone as fiercely as you two love each other. And I sensed that same kind of reluctance to impart something just as Khadgar has in telling you about his meeting with the orcs. I think whoever this is kept something from  _his_ woman; I'm sure there was something  _he_ had to do, but he didn't tell her. He wanted her to be safe, out of harm's way. It's a bit muddy, to be honest. I just get random glimpses." He paused.

Staring out over the meadow, he tried to understand what was happening, but it was all so elusive. Tiny wings fluttered across his vision. "Butterflies! God! Always lots of butterflies!" He suddenly continued. "And –" His eyes flitted from side to side as if inwardly searching for an answer. Nothing! His fist thumped the tree trunk in frustration. "Like I said it's all mixed up, I can't see it any clearer. It's bloody confusing – and upsetting at times."

Sarah rubbed his arm and moved in closer. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. "I feel like he's trying to tell me something. Something important. And although I know very little about this Void, I cannot help but feel it is connected. But there are obstacles - or something missing, like a key, a link..."

Sarah worried that her dearest friend was experiencing so much turbulence. He looked almost done in by it all. "And Bernie?" She asked tentatively.

He looked straight at her for a few moments, then lowered his head, shaking it at the same time. "I honestly don't have a clue, Sarah. I was thinking maybe  _she_ is connected, but how? Then I think, I'm just pissed off with her, clutching at straws, hoping she really  _didn't_ just –  _Use_  me to get here."

Sarah afforded a sympathetic smile. "That, to me, sounds like you are really quite fond of her, Drew. Perhaps trying to slot her into this spiritual mystery is your way of trying to give yourself a reason to keep hoping she's the real deal. And just maybe, she is! I mean – stranger things  _have_  happened. Who knows that better than us?"

His shoulders shook with soft laughter. "Yeah, that's true. What are we going to do about all this then, Sarah? What's our plan of action this time round?"

She sighed. Scanning the horizon, she thought for a moment or two. They had achieved amazing things last time but they had had the advantage of a collective knowledge from the game World of Warcraft. This time they were running blind. Plus, some very unexpected things had happened since then. She was a mother. A very hormonal mother, which was to be expected, but it did tend to discolour her thinking. She was also a demon hunter. A pretty clueless one at that. Different to those in Illidan's ranks and with none of "her kind" around to glean information from, she felt useless apart from her recently discovered abilities.  All she knew was they were facing the ultimate enemy. The Void. Yet she and Drew actually knew little about it other than it was capable of razing Azeroth and any other planet that got in its way. It could literally undo all of creation.

So, she made a decision. The only other beings who would know anything about it would be those who had prophesied Illidan would do battle with the Void. Those same beings could also enlighten her about her powers and perhaps aid her in understanding how to use them in this up and coming fight. She did not for one second, believe she was like this for no reason other than to be a mother.

She turned back to Drew. "I need to know more about these powers which still lie dormant in me. And there are only certain individuals which will be able to help me. We need to go to Shattrath in Outland, Drew. I have to speak with the naaru again. We need help though, and not Khadgar this time. We have to look for a mage."

"Just as well my cousin is here then," a familiar voice said as a shadow fell over them. They looked up to see Lukha with another beautiful draenei woman beside her. Sarah and Drew stood up to hug Lukha and welcome her companion.

"It is good to see you again Drew," Lukha said in her wonderful melodic accent. "This is Umrii, my cousin. She is visiting with her husband Lhadral, they are from Darnassus." Hands were shaken and heads bobbed in welcome.  "Umrii has been desperate to meet her father's namesake. I had promised to bring some things to Gwen this morning, and when I saw you both up here, I thought we would just come up and say hello first. It seems most fortuitous that we did, especially as we overheard what you said just now."

"Well, perhaps you should hear  _all_ before ..." Sarah began.

"I am the mage you seek," Umrii intervened, stepping forward. Her voice, although it was imbued with the same delicious accent as Lukha's, was also like honey, sweet and smooth, instantly captivating Drew and Sarah. "My father helped you reach the naaru before because he believed in you. Although I sense this is being done without Khadgar's knowledge, who was my father's best friend, I am certain it is nonetheless for the greater good of Azeroth. I, therefore, offer my services and will do the same as my father. I will help in whatever way I can."


	17. A'dal

 

 

 

Shattrath in Outland.

Once more Sarah and Drew visited the three-tier city which bordered Terokkar Forest and Nagrand. There Sarah would speak with the Naaru. When she stepped into the central dome on the Terrace of Light, it stirred a bittersweet memory of the last time she was there. Her son's namesake, Vindicator Ocel, the great draenei paladin had arranged her first meeting with the Naaru. How poignant that now it was one his daughters who brought her to the city.

Umrii, a beautiful draenei mage, who had been visiting her cousin Lukha, had more than willingly offered her help. They had waited, however, until Khadgar had returned to Dalaran later that day before they portalled to Shattrath. Kindly, Lukha had offered to watch over Ocel while they made their pilgrimage to the Naaru.

Sarah stood in front of the dais where the celestial being, A'dal, hovered, its heavenly luminescence shimmering, the delicate rays and soft chimes creating a tranquil ambience.

Although her identity was concealed adequately from prying eyes, by her hood, Sarah kept her head lowered. Drew stood a few feet behind, his identity equally hidden by way of a hood. Their portal provider Umrii, stood next to him, tall elegant and proud.

Sarah had many questions. This visit, however, had been fuelled mostly by Khadgar's attempt at keeping her in the dark. A combustible cocktail of emotions had been triggered by that discovery. Initially, disbelief that he would do this to her, anger that he considered her nothing more than a mother to their child. How dare he consider her incapable of fighting this enemy! It was her right to defend their family too. Thankfully, those thoughts were cooled somewhat by the wise words of her best friend Drew. Nevertheless, she was a little incensed that Khadgar should decide her place in this world; especially when she loved and wanted to defend it as much as he did. But Drew reminded her everything the Archmage did was out of his deep love for both her and baby Ocel. She now tried to view it from a different perspective.

Staring at her feet, for they were surely starting to hurt now, she rocked gently back and forth to ease the discomfort from each foot. She wondered how Khadgar - utterly oblivious to her current whereabouts and intentions - would fare in his search for answers within his citadel. It pained her to do this behind his back, but she knew if he'd found out what she was up to and why, he would have probably conjured some ward to prevent her from stepping beyond the boundaries of Stormwind, if, not indeed, their home.

So, here she was, blessed, or cursed - the jury was still out on that one - with her demonic-combined-Naaru abilities, standing, waiting her turn to speak with A'dal.

Granted, she had learned how to use some of her abilities although it had been mostly through pure curiosity, trial and error, and sheer dumb luck. But indubitably there was much more she needed to know. And quickly. Where best to try glean that knowledge than from the one who had assisted her on the path to free Illidan months before? Patience, however, was something she seriously lacked, and with the pending annihilation of Azeroth (yet again), time was against her. Still, she knew, she  _had_  to wait her turn.

_"We meet again, Earthling."_

Sarah was startled from her reverie but the soft tones of A'dal's voice in her mind.

 _"Yes. Thank you for granting me an audience."_ She replied in thought, inclining her head even though it was already lowered.

A small peel of laughter came from the Naaru.  _"Not so much granted, Sarah, as a need to clear you from my presence before you collapse. I sensed you would stand there until your legs fold beneath you from exhaustion."_

Sarah shifted on her feet again. A'dal wanted her cleared from her presence?  _More pressure then_ , she thought.

 _"What 'pressure' do you refer to?"_ A'dal asked.

Sarah inwardly kicked herself. Of course her every thought would be heard.  _"I need your tutelage. There are certain abilities, traits of the Naaru which I need to learn how to use and others still which are – inconvenient - within myself, I mean."_

_"Such as?"_

_"Such as glowing every time my emotions intensify."_

_"Do you mean when you feel joy, sadness, anger?"_

_"Yes, and – "_ she hesitated.

_"And?"_

_"When trying to conceal a truth."_ Her inner voice seemed to fade into almost a whisper as if she felt shame at wanting to do this.

A moment of silence supervened.  _"You mean lying?"_ The Naaru asked.

Sarah paused. She did not consider it a lie, merely being conservative with the facts. She was still chewing over how to respond when A'dal broke the silence.  _"You speak of Khadgar."_

Sarah considered trying to formulate another response without A'dal being aware but it was impossible. She would just have to blurt it out. " _I know he has, or what he thinks, are my best interests at heart. But I feel that I have been imbued with these strange powers for a purpose, and should not be hidden away or shielded from pending danger. Do I not have the right to stand up and fight for what I love as much as he does?"_

 _"Indeed you do, Sarah. You and thousands of other beings, all of which_ you  _are connected with."_

 _"Sorry. What? I – I don't understand."_ She had hoped for a simple 'yes' or 'no'.

_"When you were projected into the Twisting Nether to rescue Illidan, you were aware of the consequences, were you not?"_

_"Yes. I could have died but..."_

_"You did."_

She stumbled.  _"No, I didn't. Illidan saved me."_

 _"Sarah._ No _mortal enters the Nether and survives. You_ did _die albeit only for the duration of a heartbeat. As such, part of your soul still roams the Twisting Nether and this is what connects you with thousands of others within it."_

Silence. She did not know she had actually died and so this was... bizarre to say the least. Unsure how to take this information, she stood, head still bowed focusing on the fact she  _was_ alive and breathing. For all she still did not understand the full significance of what she was being told, she sensed there was more to this and no doubt the celestial being before her would decide  _when_ it wa _s_ best to inform her.

 _"In answer to your query about your physical response to emotions, I can tell you this will fade. In fact, it is already doing so if you care to look."_  A'dal disclosed.

There was still a glow from her markings but surprisingly nothing in comparison to what she would have expected.  _"How?"_ she asked, a note of despondency as she was now dwelling on the fact part of her soul was lost in the Twisting Nether.

_"Illidan infused your body with not only the demon felblood from himself but also the power of the Naaru as you know. The latter was to protect your child, for the felblood alone would have corrupted the babe, and that is why Illidan asked us to intervene. Which we did. The connection with your emotions was congenital to that protection. Had he not seen you were with child, things may have been very different indeed, Sarah._

_"As you no doubt are aware you continue to experience chaotic emotions. These will fade. Similarly, the emotional 'flare' associated with the protective power of the Naaru, has been dissipating of its own accord each day as its original purpose is now complete. You could have, however, taken control of it once your son was born through merely the power of thought. I suspect, as you had grown accustomed to its flare during your pregnancy, you considered it as a lasting side-effect, mayhap? However, once the power of the Naaru is imbued in one, it does not abandon you. Now it will rise to your will, not to your emotional state."_

Sarah had been under the impression that the gift of the Naaru was to protect her babe  _only_  when they battled with the Burning Legion. She had not understood that it was actually a necessity to counteract the felblood's effect on her child. It was not something, therefore, to be ungrateful about but, it still was a long way from answering all her questions.

An unexpected blow was then delivered.  _"Your child, as he was conceived prior to any of these physical changes in you, will be your first, Sarah.  A_ nd  _your last. As part of your soul wanders the Nether, the ability to procreate, has been removed."_

A'dal's words sank in slowly, but once they did Sarah's legs folded and she crashed down to her knees. The judder from bone impacting heavily on stone reverberated through her entire body, yet she did not even flinch. An arm around her shoulder informed her Drew was at her side; as always, the faithful puppy. Her breath caught in her throat, a tightening gripped her heart. It took all she had to remain upright in her kneeling position.

Her eyes welled as Khadgar's slip of the tongue, echoed in her mind.  _"Next one will be a sister for you."_   How the hell could she tell him that she was now barren and incomplete because part of her wandered about the skies in the Nether? He quite literally had ended up with damaged goods. She suddenly considered herself utterly repulsive, violated to the point she felt unworthy of such a great man's attention let alone his love.

_"Stop with this train of thought! Learn to appreciate what surrounds you, and stop lamenting what you will never have!"_

The brutality of A'dal's words had her swaying. How easy it was to forget the Naaru was tuned into her frequency and every emotion, every miniscule thought process and result was received loud and clear. Even though her glowing trait was dwindling, and was barely visible considering her current emotions, she did not bother trying to snuff it out altogether. Now she was so incensed by the celestial beings utter disregard for her human condition. _"Forgive me A'dal,_ supreme  _being but at the risk of offending you, you have no idea how that news you have just shared makes the warm-bloodied human female in me feel!_

 _"How could you after all? You are just an ethereal, diaphanous being, a conscience, without substance. Powerful yes, in magic and prophecy, but you are bereft, clueless, vacuous even when it comes to the miracle of motherhood. You have never known what it means to hold your child in your arms, or hope and plan for another with the man you love more than life itself. I will_ not  _be made to feel ashamed for feeling this pain, this loss, at finding out I am less than I was before I came to Azeroth!_

 _"I am_ not  _unappreciative of having been blessed with the love of a man I never in a million years thought would even look my way. I_ know  _we have a beautiful son, whom I love unconditionally. I am_ well aware _that I was saved by Illidan and made into a demon hunter. I remember I played a part in helping to defeat the Burning Legion. Each and everything just declared, incredible, miraculous._

 _"But do not expect me to just accept that which has been stripped from me, as inconsequential. You float there in your heavenly aura and tell me I can bear no more children. It is the_ ultimate _declaration of my love for Khadgar that has been torn from me. So, how dare you tell me to offload such pain when you know_ nothing _about it!"_

She fought those tears as if it meant her life, for she did not want Drew to be any more concerned than he was already. She struggled to her feet, Drew steadying her by her elbow. She turned to leave, convinced that she had most definitely alienated the Naaru. She would have to try and find out what she needed elsewhere. Somehow.

A'dal slipped back into her mind.  _"We wondered when you would come to us seeking answers, Sarah. So I will ensure that today you leave with all you need."_

Sarah turned back to face the shimmering being, stunned that she was still being granted an audience. Tentatively, she returned to where she had stood previously and assured Drew she was fine. He stepped back to give her space.

_"Firstly, know this, Sarah of Earth. You can never return to your home world again."_

Sarah winced. More bad news. For all it had never been a consideration since her decision to stay with the man she loved, the ominous undertone of this limitation nonetheless frightened her. " _Why_?" she managed.

_"There was a third gift bestowed when Illidan revived you. It was unintentional, but it did however become part of your new personage, as it were. Illidan for all his demonic mutation, is still primarily a night elf. And what is it, Sarah, that sets the night elves apart from all others?"_

It was a simple question and one which she knew the answer, yet its connotation did not make her feel joyous.

The Naaru could tell that she had deduced the ramifications.  _"Yes._ Immortality _. You are more like Illidan than you realise, there is a bond between you now which nothing and no-one can put asunder. In so being, however, it means you cannot return, in physical form at least, to your world. For if you do, you will wither and die within moments of stepping foot on your soil. Your immortality begins and ends with Azeroth."_

Sarah fought back the still threatening tears. What she had started to hope was a gift was in fact, a curse. She had known nothing of these two, heart-breaking conditions which were part of her transformation.

All this because she believed in Illidan. And to what ends? To stand by and watch those around her grow old and die? What of Khadgar and their son? Drew, Erik, Lukha? She had just been guaranteed the horror of witnessing them growing old and dying while she remained the same - untouched by age, or illness, her mortality a mere memory. That, or cross the universe to certain instantaneous death. She was trapped within her own body.

 _"Try not to despair, Sarah. You are alive. You have love. You have a son. There is hope for a bright future. Always hope. You will continue to have certain abilities inherent to the Naaru, such as telepathy, levitation, you can communicate with the essence of life itself on Azeroth, and you are able to heal and protect with our light. Finally, there is one more ability. One which will aid_ greatly  _in the coming war..."_

Sarah listened as the Naaru explained in depth what purpose she truly had. In listening, she only felt resigned to her destiny, she could not enthuse about it, nor embrace it anymore. On one hand, she understood now how to properly use the special abilities imparted to her. It did not, however, take away the shadow of her sorrow.

A'dal came to the end of her revelation and finished with one more piece of the jigsaw puzzle.  _"The visiting spirit within your friend is part of this, Sarah. There is also another and you must find it. I cannot stress enough, that time is running out.You must make haste."_

Sarah glanced at Drew, her brow furrowed.He looked back at her, mirroring her expression. _"But who is inside him? And who this other?"_ she asked A'dal.

_"Connect with your friend as you have done before. The spirit will communicate with you now and lead you to the one you need."_

She looked back at Drew; her faithful puppy. She prayed that this spirit he carried would not corrupt his mortality and that he could return home unscathed, perhaps find love with this Bernie who, she guessed, he cared for more than he openly admitted.

 _"Now?"_  she asked the naaru.

_"There is no time like the present Sarah if you wish to have the future."_

With those parting words, she turned from A'dal.

"Sarah? You look so sad. What troubles you?" Drew asked. "What has A'dal told you? And I beg you do not keep things from me like you did once before."

She nodded, then thanked A'dal once more for her guidance and the answers to her questions; even those she had not known to ask. With a subdued smile, she led Drew and Umrii to the already established portal to Stormwind within the Terrace of Light and together, they passed through.

They alighted within the uppermost room of the mage tower in Stormwind. Umrii offered to teleport them to Lukha's house, but Sarah wished to walk. It was not that far anyhow. As they strolled through the gardens in the Mage District, she remained silent, lost in her thoughts.

There is always a price, she reflected. And it was not always possible to know the currency which would be exchanged. In her case, it was both her fertility and mortality. She was unable to give Khadgar more children, which by all accounts he had seemed keen to have. _When did one even broach that subject?_ she considered. After many more years unsuccessfully conceiving? Considering she had fallen pregnant so easily the first time, it would probably be much sooner before it needed to be addressed.

And, as for her mortality... Should they succeed in this coming battle, she was destined to watch him grow old and weak, perhaps die in her arms. She felt a sharp pain in her chest. The thought was not a welcome one but now it was one which would haunt her.  He would look upon her face, seeing her unchanged. Would it only be discussed then, as he drew his last breath? What would cause him more pain, she wondered. The silent observation as the years slipped from him and she remained youthful, flawless? Or knowing and having to accept the fact that she would have to carry on without him, indefinitely? When should she drop those bombshells? Whatever, whenever, it did not erase the fact she was going to end up alone.

Right at that moment, she wished there was a ripple, rift or portal that could take her back to that fateful night where she sat in her car, stuck in traffic in the rain. She would take a different route, one where that lorry would not have hit her and she would be sitting at home now, in her pyjamas playing World of Warcraft with Drew. Never would she meet and fall in love with Khadgar, nor save the King of Stormwind, nor become a demon hunter, or an infertile immortal. She would go back to being an office worker who hid from the world. Simple. Without complications.

Yet. No! When she put a veil over the upsetting revelations of today, denying their existence, she realised that what she had now was truly wonderful. Definitely, more than she would ever have had sitting at home with her laptop, playing computer games.

Khadgar. Now, even just his name made her heart swell. Their time together had been a little tumultuous to start with, but oh, the making up had been so, so sweet. Within his arms she felt safe, loved, precious even. She would never have had that stuck at home in Scotland.

No doubt, moving ahead was going to have many trials and obstacles for them, providing they survived the coming battle with the Void of course. She afforded herself a little smile. Would she want to sacrifice all this time with him? No. Of course not, and neither would she want to lose whatever lay ahead for them. She just had to hope he would feel the same once he knew certain things about her.

Reaching Lukha's front door, she readied herself for the questions they would all throw at her. She would only say that she had received information on how to utilise her powers, without revealing what was expected of her, for truth be told, she found it even more unbelievable than drawing the titan Azeroth into being. Actually, she wasn't entirely sure what she was meant to do at all. Had she been so immersed in self-pity that she had not heard A'dal giving her a step-by-step guide? Or was the solution as enigmatic as the celestial beings themselves? If Drew questioned what happened when she collapsed to her knees, she would try to dismiss it by saying she was exhausted and her knees simply buckled. She would however, once they returned to her house, then explain to him about the spirit he was playing host to.

Truth was, she _was_ tired. Perhaps the trauma from what she had learned, combined with simply being a mother to a six-week old baby, worrying about Khadgar, the pending war...

Yes. Life in Azeroth was indeed tiring.


	18. Swamped

 

 

 

The morning was coated in a veil of mist making the Deadwind Pass even more eerie than normal. Bernie shivered as it seemed to seep into her bones. She felt bad she had insisted on using Mel's shirt for makeshift handles on the shards. He sat chafing his arms trying to stay warm. Waquro threw them a blanket each then saw that the three captives had water canteens for the journey. "We will eat later," he said. "It is not wise to go into the swamp on a full stomach. You will just lose its contents."

Mel and Bernie did not question him, both well aware he would know what he was talking about.

"Belmar, gather the weapons, and Hagus, see to all other necessities and douse that fire," Waquro ordered. The orcs busied themselves doing as he had instructed.

Mick, on hearing the smaller orc's name, started laughing. Angry stares from Bernie and Mel did not dissuade him from his raucous outburst. Waquro towered over him. It almost shut him up, until he looked back at the subject of his mirth.

"What amuses you, human?" Waquro asked darkly.

Mick pointed to the smaller of the two orcs. "His name kills me," he said between gulps of stupid laughter.

"It is an honourable name. You show disrespect."

" _Hagus_!" Mick laughed again. "Where we come from, something sounding similar is a  _food_  to us." He growled the last few words, emphasising his scorn.

Waquro looked at Bernie for confirmation. She nodded and explained, "Sheeps 'pluck' or more commonly known as haggis, made from minced offal with onion and oatmeal. Traditionally it is stuffed in the sheep's stomach and boiled."

A rumble sounded, deep in the Tauren's chest, almost like laughter. Mel nudged Bernie and their fingers closed tightly around each other's hands. There was a distinct lack of humour in his mirth. Mick, however, read it differently and his laughter rose again.

Without warning, Waquro bellowed loudly causing the orcs to drop the items they had gathered. Bernie and Mel slammed against the wall in fright and Mick dropped like a stone to the ground. Scurrying backwards, on hands and feet, Mick kept slipping on the stone floor, hindering his propulsion as Waquro stomped after him, the huge hooves threatening to crush Mick's feet at any moment. Mick's back slammed up against the opposite wall, the wind knocked out of him and his escape route gone. Waquro bent down, his nostril's flaring wildly, breath hot and steamy, coating Mick's apology of a coiffure in a film of moist air. "You think that's funny do you,  _little_  boy!"

Mick covered his face with his arm. "N – no," he whimpered. A damp patch spread down his left thigh. He squeezed his eyes closed in utter shame.

"Understand this you little  _worm_ , these orcs look on  _you_  as food. Their clan eat the likes of you  _raw_  for breakfast and use your bones to pick your flesh from their teeth. It has been with  _great_ restraint that they haven't gnawed on your limbs overnight, so think carefully before that offensive opening that you call a mouth spews forth any more foul utterings. Or I will personally feed you  _to_  them!" With one enormous snort that coated Mick's face in mucus, he turned brusquely and headed back to the opposite side of the cave. As he levelled with the shocked faces of Mel and Bernie he grunted, before collecting his sword and axe that leaned against the wall.

Bernie glanced over to Mick. He was whimpering, but his eyes brimmed with such malevolence that she felt a shiver run down her spine. She glanced at Mel who seemed to have noticed the same look in Mick's eyes that she had. "Think he's well pissed off now?" Mel whispered.

Bernie simply raised her brows. "Which one?" she asked glancing between the raging Tauren and their furious flatmate. The atmosphere had a definite hostile edge to it now. She did not think this day was going to improve. The sound of distant thunder echoed around the canyon. Her fears were confirmed.

 

 

 

"Follow me," Waquro ordered. He gestured to the orcs to bring Mick up at the rear while he led the way with Bernie and Mel.

They walked in silence until they left Deadwind Pass behind and entered The Swamp of Sorrows. The contrast was staggering. From the cooling mists in the stone canyon to the throat contracting humidity of the swamps, the earthlings struggled to adjust to the overwhelming change in temperature. The thunder was directly above them now, yet no rain accompanied it. Just an oppressive heat beat down.

Now, Bernie and Mel fully understood their captors words about reaching the end of the swamps dead or alive. The heat was one thing, but stench alone could kill you. Having no breakfast made sense now. All three struggled not to retch as they trudged through the malodorous swamp.

Foliage in a million hues of green, with purple, red and yellow flowers dotted in amongst the ferns and grasses surrounded them on all sides. Algae covered water and glossy mud weaved through the undergrowth. They had expected to see rancid corpses, going by the foul effluvium but there were none to be seen; thankfully.

Warped trees, weighted down with their heavy canopies seemed to hover just above the ground perched on enormous sprawling roots. They stood like ancient sentinels. A plethora of knots in their trunks gave the appearance of tormented faces in their bark. Bernie half expected them to lurch forward and swat the troupe with their multi-limbed branches, as they tried to negotiate the fern and moss covered paths.

The road, if it could be called such, rose mere inches above the stagnant murk in places. Serpents winding their way around branches, and along the ground, tasted the air with their forked tongues and their slitted eyes watched, unblinking, as the troupe trudged by. Some of the snakes were writhing in large slithering knots, their entangled mating dance leaving Bernie repulsed. Ripples on the water's surface denoted the troupe were being observed from underneath as well as above in the canopies. There was an uncanny feeling that they were being followed as they navigated their way through the humid environment.

The sounds in the swamp, although distinctly different, were nevertheless just as unnerving as those in Deadwind Pass. In here, the sounds seemed to wrap themselves around you, as if trying to penetrate your flesh and possess you. Hissing, buzzing, screeching, groaning, growling, were all the sounds you simply did not want to hear.

Waquro afforded a sideways glance at Bernie and Mel and laughed inwardly at their nervous faces. "So, tell me your story," he said suddenly.

Without her eyes leaving ground level as she scanned all around for any potential threat, Bernie's voice trembled slightly in response. "Story?"

"Hmm. How you know Khadgar? And how is it you are familiar with Frostfire?"

"Oh!" She quickly glanced at Mel, but like her, he too was nervously looking around as if expecting something to lunge out of the waters or through the ferns at them. "Well, we – we're not from around these parts," she offered pathetically.

Waquro scoffed. "That much I deduced from your manner of dress and the way you talk, as well as your tribal markings and adornments."

"My what?" she was genuinely stumped.

"Your tattoos and the metal in your skin."

"Oh! Those, yeah. A bit like a troll to you, I guess."

"Prettier though," Waquro offered.

"Thank you!" For a moment, she allowed his compliment to ease her nerves until a loud hiss from somewhere on her left had her tensing again.

"He meant the  _troll,_ Bernie!" Mick quipped from behind. Bernie sighed with irritation and threw a quick scowl in his direction. His comment resulted in Hagus pushing him roughly forward with the handle of his axe. A disgruntled Mick merely peeled off his overcoat which had began to adhere to his skin. He slung it over his shoulder and scowled.

Waquro turned abruptly and the group halted. Removing a dagger from a scabbard on his belt he handed it, hilt first, to Bernie. "You have my permission to cut out his tongue," he said darkly. "I do not think it would be fair to ask you to separate him from his gender. That is something _I_  am sorely tempted to do, however –" The Tauren eyed Mick. "- _Slowly_!"

Bernie lowered her eyes. Waquro's dislike of Mick would be amusing if there wasn't a distinct element of truth in that he clearly hoped Mick would push him to the limit so he could carry out the said threat. She lifted her eyes just enough to see Mel stifling a grin. Neither of them dared look at the subject of Waquro's displeasure.

A blood-curdling screech pierced the air and raced towards them accompanied by a harsh, rapid buffeting of wings stirring what little dry soil there was at the troupe's feet. Bernie's hair was drawn up in the draught created by a green drake's beating wingspan. Without thinking she grabbed the cotton covered shards from her belt and prepared to attack. She crouched, poised and ready to spring at her attacker like a lynx. Mel also crouched down, one knee on the dry earth as he reached to the back of his belt searching for his shards as well. The orcs and Waquro had already armed themselves with their weapons, prepared for the oncoming assault from the reptiles.

 

 

 

The drake swooped down. Bernie thrust her shards upwards and out with such force the beast's guts fell onto her head. She shook them off as she continued to slice at the drake's underbelly until, screeching in agony, it fell to the ground. She drove the shards into its throat, careful to avoid the sharp teeth as it snapped at her in desperation. Another one came from the side. Mel spun, ready to stick the shards in the reptile but an axe whooshed through the air with thunderous force and decapitated the beast. Its head rolled into the waters, a welcome snack for what lurked below. Mel glanced up to see Waquro with his axe in hand, rivulets of blood running down its blade.

The orcs' weapons whistled through the air above Mick's head, merely snagging the wing of a third, larger drake. It veered to its right, trying to ascend, but the axes had damaged the membrane sufficiently enough that the creature ploughed into the ferns and undergrowth. Both the orcs stomped towards the injured animal to put an end to its blood-curdling cries.

Mick was hunkered down, pulling his overcoat back up over his head. A loud hiss from his left made him turn his terrified eyes towards its source. A crocolisk was heaving its enormous armoured body up onto the banking only feet from where Mick was crouching, its jaws opened as it neared its potential meal. Rows of sharp teeth, more than capable of clamping down on its prey and dragging it into the waters were on clear display. If they grabbed you it would twist and spin your body violently, separating flesh, muscles and joints before it dined on your carcass.

He knew he had to move, but Mick was rigid with fear. Even his throat contracted, preventing him from calling out to his companions or his captors. The crocolisk surged forward, its head now just a gaping, lethal maw of certain death. The only thing he could think to do was throw his coat in a vain attempt to cover the beast's eyes and prevent it from finding him. The coat fell just short of its enormous head.

Bernie looked round just as the reptile was about to make its final lunge. "Waquro!" she shouted, pointing to Mick.

The Tauren bellowed and grabbing his axe firmly in both hands launched himself to Mick's side and brought the weapon down with implausible precision, decapitating the crocolisk. Its huge jaws hit the ground with a reverberating thud, just inches from Mick. He watched, disbelieving, as slowly the deadly mandible fully closed with a dull click. Just beyond he saw the rest of its body jerking and twitching for a few moments more before it too, stilled. His eyes, wide and terrified, looked where the sleeve of his coat protruded from under the crocolisk's corpse. It was ruined, blood seeping into it mingling with the dirt.

All that could be heard, was the sound of cicadas, lapping water and the rustling of ferns as Belmar and Hagus returned to the path, having despatched the wounded drake. The contrast from the screeching and hissing threat of a horrible death to the serenity of an almost hushed swamp pushed Mick over the edge. He bolted upright, his eyes now glazed, mad. "For fuck's sake! Get us the hell out of this stinking shit hole!" He threw at Waquro.

" _Mick_ ," Mel said, a warning tone in his voice.

"Oh shut the fuck up you little runt. You and that bitch stick together like glue. Well, it'll be different when we get home because you two are going to need somewhere else to live!"

Bernie stared at Mick from under her lashes. This was not the same guy she had known for five years. Or  _was_ this the real Mick, perhaps? Whatever, she was starting to seriously dislike this version.

" _Shut up_  Mick," Mel was not going to back down now. He watched as Waquro stepped back behind Bernie and himself. The Tauren sensed that this time he should not intervene.

Mick's face was set in a sneer. "Or  _what_? You and your pathetic little man-bun, why you're almost as hirsute as you hairy-assed bovine friend there." He pointed to the Tauren.

The orcs made to step forward, but with a snort from Waquro they stayed their ground.

Mel put his shards back in his belt. Mick scoffed. "I knew you didn't have it in you, you  _pussy_."

Bernie blinked as Mel suddenly vanished from her side. Her eyes turned to see him striding purposefully towards a now laughing Mick. Mel's fingers clenched, knuckles turning white. With a left jab his fist impacted just below Mick's ribs causing the lanky, not-so-well groomed Risk Analyst to fold. Then without hesitation, Mel brought his right fist down onto Mick's face, his knuckles crunching the side of his nose and catching his lip. Mick hit the dirt, clutching his gut and spitting blood from a busted lip and bloody nose. Mel stood over him. "I said  _shut the fuck up,_ you  _stylized prick_!" Then, coolly, he turned and rejoined a stunned Bernie and silent Waquro.

"Bring him," the Tauren motioned the orcs to grab Mick and haul him to his feet. Waquro turned and started to lead the way forward once more.

Bernie's face broke into a smile as she looked at Mel. "Remind me not to insult your hair," she said, flicking his man-bun.

He wore a rather sheepish expression. "Needed to be done, Bernie."

She linked arms with him and started after Waquro. "I couldn't agree more," she whispered.

They caught up with the Tauren, and stayed close, anticipating another attack at any moment. Waquro seemed unperturbed by the drakes' assault and steadily made his way through the swamp, sticking to the paths although some were treacherous underfoot due to the wet foliage. The Tauren looked sideways at the two humans. "You hit well," he said, his voice like molasses, smooth and dark.

Mel smirked, inwardly pleased that their enormous captor considered his move was worthy of comment. "Thanks," he managed.

"So, tell me. Where are you from? The –  _what_ did you call him?" He jerked his head in Mick's direction.

"Stylized prick?" Mel muttered, grinning.

Waquro chuckled. "Yes. He spoke of when you get home. Where is home?"

Mel cleared his throat and glanced at Bernie. "I'm not sure you would believe us if we told you."

Again, their captor omitted a singular guffaw. "You are talking to one who has passed through a portal which has drawn him back about thirty-five years. I would say I have more disbelieving tales than you."

As Bernie had thought, some of their story was at least feasible in Azeroth. Then it dawned on her. If what Drew had said was all true, perhaps Waquro had heard about it.

"If you spend most your time in Draenor, I take it you do not know what has happened in Azeroth?" Mel met her gaze and instantly understood.

The Tauren was quiet for a moment. "I do not spend all my time in Draenor, I merely go where I may be of use. So I am aware of things here, yes."

"I heard there was war with the Burning Legion. Is that true?" Keeping up the pretence seemed easier to cajole the subject along.

"Yes. I fought in some of the battles, mostly those that affected my home. I lost many friends to that war."

Now, Bernie was at a loss. Waquro's tone was sad and heavy. She had not meant to bring bad memories back and instantly she regretted her approach. At a loss for what to say, she lowered her eyes to the road and just kept walking.

Her silence piqued his interest. "You are avoiding telling me your story, however. Tell me what it is you are hiding."

Bernie stiffened a little at his remark. "I am not avoiding it Waquro, I am just trying to find the best way to tell you what you want to know." She took a deep breath. She had to try again. "Did you hear of a woman who came from another dimension and aided Azeroth in the war?"

The Tauren rolled his shoulders and snorted. "I did yes. And there was a man, too."

Bernie's heart skipped a beat. Drew! She was now encouraged to pursue her subtle transgression. "We are from the same world that they come from. In fact, we followed that man back through."

At that, the Tauren halted causing Bernie and Mel to stop short for they almost collided with him. He turned and looked down. There was something in his look that made them feel very small indeed. "If you followed him, then how come you were all struggling to survive on the Pass and there was no sign of him around?"

"You actually  _know_ him?" Bernie was now clutching to a very frangible straw.

"Answer me!" he demanded.

The whole troupe had halted now. Mel turned to Mick, expecting some snide comment from him as the Tauren's tone had changed now towards Bernie. Mic,  however, remained quiet, still nursing his split lip and bloodied nose.

Bernie swallowed before answering. "He was not best pleased that we followed him. Matters were not helped by our friend back there," she jerked her head at Mick. "And I think he headed for Stormwind." Admitting that saddened her, and served as a reminder of the fact that she was now far from him. "He fights for the Alliance. We are for Horde."

The Tauren's black eyes flitted between her and Mel with only the briefest of glimpses at Mick. "Bah!" the Tauren scoffed then immediately turned and resumed the trek through the swamp. Bernie looked at Mel, confused, and quickly fell into step with Waquro once more.

"You are mocking us?" she asked guardedly.

"Ha! You mock yourselves," he answered. "' _We, are for Horde,_ ' you say. Whether Horde or Alliance, it is a thing of honour, of commitment and loyalty. It is not a pretence or something to be spoken of lightly. It is not a game, Bernie."

Mel bit the bullet. "That's the thing, Waquro. Where we come from, all of this  _is_ a game.  _Literally_."

A few heavy raindrops finally fell, splashing off the Tauren's broad skull. Waquro looked up at the threatening sky through the canopy then glanced back at Mel from over his shoulder. His voice held an air of menace. "We need shelter. We will talk more of this when we are at Stonard."


	19. Spirit Guide

All most people knew about the Void Lords was that they could be a powerful foe. They harnessed the power of shadow, where all dark things lurked, but other than that, details of the Void and its Lords was obscure to most. 

Thankful for this, for the time being, Sarah did not divulge the Void's current threat in Draenor to Lukha and Umrii. It was not Sarah's place to say anything. At least not until there was something concrete and a plan formed. In truth, she still remained uncertain of exactly what awaited them and was relieved when the two dranaei had not pressed for more information of Sarah's communication with the Naaru. There was an urgency, however, and she needed to work fast.

Unable to speak of her personal predicaments to them, Sarah kept what A'dal had revealed to the absolute minimum. She informed them only that she now knew how to control her flare and that the "gift" bestowed upon her enabled her to heal and protect others. So, in keeping up appearances, tired though she was, Sarah insisted on taking Ocel home. She thanked Lukha for watching him during her visit to Shattrath and Umrii, for assisting her and Drew with reaching the Naaru. 

She needed to progress things and that meant speaking privately with her best friend, or rather, with his spiritual hitch-hiker, for a clearer picture of things.

Once Ocel was fed and changed, he was ready for an afternoon nap. Leaving the nursery door slightly ajar, she moved through to the living room where Drew sat, waiting patiently. He glanced up and stood when she entered the room.

He had known her far too long to be so easily duped by what she'd told, or rather didn't tell Lukha and Umrii. The minute he crossed the room and folded his arms around her, her tears started. "Tell me everything," he said, burying a kiss in her hair and holding her protectively. It took her a few minutes to regain some composure. Gently, he led her back to the sofa.

She was fighting a feeling of guilt confiding in him. Khadgar should have been hearing this first. But, he was in Dalaran, seeing to important matters himself, concerning the Void. As it was, the monumental pain and fear she felt were overwhelming. She desperately needed an outlet, and that outlet was Drew, her still, faithful puppy. The words came tumbling out in a deluge, punctuated by her wracking sobs. Even to her own ears, she sounded like a rambling mad woman.

 

 ** _Music: Tri State - Above & Beyond_**    

Drew listened, silently, allowing her to unburden herself. With each word, his heart took a beating. His friend had been brutally altered, restructured beyond what any of them had realised. He could feel her pain as she told him of the deeper consequences having gone into the Twisting Nether.

Why had all this not been explained to her before she offered herself as a sacrifice? Would she have then turned aside from it perhaps? Would she have left Illidan floating in the Twisting Nether? She had gone in prepared to die, yet had emerged infertile and immortal. This was bizarrely a million times worse for her. 

It was on the other hand, extraordinarily difficult for him to weigh up what was the worst ultimatum. The cold harsh reality was that this 'fantasy' world took what it wanted, however, it wanted from  _whoever_ it wanted. You were chewed up and spat out according to Azeroth's needs, and left to deal with it as best you could. It was far removed from the happy, magical, mystical world on the computer screen.

Her fingers wrung his sleeve as she worried about how she was going to tell Khadgar. She put forth scenario after scenario, becoming more distressed with each one. Drew felt helpless. All he could do was hold her and let her pour it all out. Finally, she quieted and sat, her shoulders hitching every now and again but the sobs gradually receded.

He struggled for something to say, but he had to offer some comfort. "Sarah," he said softly. "Khadgar loves you. I have never seen anyone look at someone the way he does you. He eagerly accepted the fact you were half demon hunter, did he not? He looked beyond the tattoos because he was so relieved to have you back, with him. He was broken when he thought he'd lost you."

She trembled in his arms, sniffing back renegade tears. Drew sighed. "As for - no more children... I – I cannot even  _begin_ to understand what that feels like for you." He instinctively held her closer. "But, I do know you are still an amazing person and it doesn't make you any less the woman who Khadgar fell in love with. He will protect you and Ocel more fiercely than he has defended anything in his life. Being a family was not a condition of his love Sarah. I - I don't know what else to say other than, no matter what, I love you,  _many_ people do, will continue to and no-one will love you more than Khadgar."

Quietly, he pondered on her immortality. Combined with the fabled fountain of youth, immortality was the ultimate goal man was searching and striving for - their increase in longevity being the bottom rung of the ladder. 

The constant progress, revising, restructuring, researching in medicine and science was not just to find cures for all diseases and ailments, no, that was merely the tip of the iceberg so-to-speak. Drew firmly believed it was more to do with perfecting the human condition. Although many would deny it, the true goal was eternal life. To put humans up there with the gods. To  _become_ God.

And here, in Azeroth, within the space of a heartbeat, his best friend had unwittingly achieved it. With it came the horrible reality that she was amongst the few. Her loved ones would wither and pass beyond this world, leaving her to endure the pain of their loss, endlessly. Joy would become just a memory. Would she ever feel love again, the likes of which she had now with Khadgar? Or would she be too scared to try, for fear she would have to endure the pain of losing it yet again? Would guilt for living, dominate over every other emotion? 

Some may consider immortality an enviable condition. But, listening to Sarah's hypothesis, it wasn't. It was harsh. Cruel. An eternal imprisonment. Mortals, destined to grow old and die, were perhaps, the lucky ones. There were just no words of comfort he could offer, other than to reassure her that he loved her and always would.

They sat for a while, in quiet contemplation. Sarah was awarded exiguous relief, but that in itself was at least something. Now, wrapped in Drew's arms, although the pain was still there, she started to feel a little calmer at least. Gently, she pushed herself up from his embrace. "You are also part of the puzzle, or I should say, your guest spirit is."

Drew hitched himself up. A flash of concern flickered over his face. "H-how?"

"A'dal told me that the spirit is involved in all this and I should communicate with it. I guess it is our spirit guide."

"But how? And are you saying it's ...  _part_ of the problem, or the  _solution_?"

"A'dal only said it was part of it. Which way, I do not know. But I need to try and communicate, Drew. May I?" she asked holding out her hands.

He shifted again, unease weaving its way through his body. He resigned himself to the fact that it was necessary and may aid in stopping the threat which now hung over them. With a deep sigh, and still trembling, he took her hands in his.

Her fingers gripped him tightly as a jolt blasted through her, so powerful it almost pushed her back against the armrest. Distantly she heard Drew cry out. He too had experienced the sudden blast of power. Their hands were knitted so tight together their knuckles were turning white, trembling. The pain from their fingers digging into each other's flesh was starting to register, but then it was blown to the four winds.

**_Music: Everdream composed by Cesc Vilá_ **

They watched, eyes wide, as shimmering, golden, empyrean wisps, exuded from Drew's body; twisting, dancing around the couple, stretching out and upwards. Millions of minute particles like stardust migrated into the centre of the expanding wisps. A hypnotic display swam before their eyes, spinning ever faster. The celestial manifestation continued to amplify, growing brighter, pulling in on itself, drawing all the light to form a central, vertical pulsing beam. A symphonic collision of the elements blended with the sweet chime of the Naaru and hummed all around, escalating, building in conjunction with the spinning radiance.

Abruptly, the light intensified, forcing the two friends to scrunch their eyes tightly shut before it shrank and imploded; the suction and corresponding pop almost ear-shattering. Both Sarah and Drew instinctively pulled themselves into each other.

The silence was suddenly deafening. Both exhaled, giving way to short sharp breaths. Sarah opened her eyes, keeping her head down as she tried to gauge what had just happened. "You okay?" she whispered.

Drew swallowed, but his mouth was dry. "Yeah. You?"

"Please, do not break your contact." A third voice said from their left. It was all it took for them to cling tighter to each other, with their breathing hitched yet again. The voice laughed, softly. "Just keep holding hands. You can relax though."

It took a few moments for the couple on the sofa to do just that. "Together," Sarah whispered, lifting her eyes to Drew's. He nodded.

 

 

Looking up, they were greeted by the transpicuous figure of a male elf. They stared as a tall figure densified, taking on hue and form. "Do not fear me," he said. "I will not harm you."

Sarah started at the sound of Ocel crying from the nursery. She made to stand but the elf held out his hand to stop her. "My son needs me," she protested.

The elf drew his hand back, touching his forefinger to his lips. Keeping his eyes on her, he fanned out his fingers, then drew them closed, whispering, "Sleep, Ocel."

Drew clasped Sarah's hand as he felt her tense when the elf uttered her son's name.

"He sleeps again," the elf said. "Do not worry, he is safe."

Sarah continued staring at the figure in front of her. "Y – you used  _magic_ on my son?"

The elf's full lips split into a charismatic smile. "No, it is merely spiritual, a calming influence, nothing more. The boy is fine, I assure you. I am no sorcerer."

She stared at the elf, questioningly. He merely smiled at her. There seemed to be no threat. Gradually, she relaxed. "Who are you? Why do you possess my friend?" she asked.

The elf turned his green eyes towards Drew. "My name is Camnath Sunspear. I am - was, from Silvermoon City in Quel'thalas." His eyes never left Drew's.

Sarah observed the exchange between them and a memory, distant, hazy, tugged at the edges of her mind. "Camnath," she murmured. "Your name is familiar, yet I do not ..."

Drew involuntarily squeezed her fingers. He knew. A certain blood elf demon hunter spoke of this man aplenty on the last night before Drew returned home. Unable to break eye contact with the ebony-haired elf, he swallowed, nervously. "He is Tiene's husband," he whispered.

It was then Sarah recalled Tiene had spoken his name when they were all camped in Aszuna. She had said Drew reminded her of someone called Camnath. Glancing between the two men she could see the physical similarities.

Camnath nodded towards Drew. "Do not feel uneasy. You offered Tiene comfort and love when I could not. I am glad she found someone like you. She was a passionate woman and I did not begrudge her affection from another when she needed it."

Drew struggled to remain composed. He had been very fond of Tiene and her story had touched him deeply, but faced with her husband, benevolent spirit or not was unnerving. He felt his eyes brimming and tore his gaze from the elf, trying to suppress the sadness bubbling just below the surface.

Sarah had been very fond of Tiene and had been filled with a heartfelt sorrow when she'd heard that she had taken her life to be with someone dear to her. Arcaena had not divulged it was her husband, however. It seemed so much more poignant now that he stood in front of her. Inwardly she smiled, albeit briefly. These female demon hunters were good at keeping such secrets. She sensed Drew was struggling with this confrontation, so she tried to push things forward. "Why are you here?" she asked Camnath, fighting back the sadness.

The elf shifted and turned his attention to her. "To help," he answered simply. "I know that of which you face in the coming days."

"The Void? In  _days_?" she said, perplexed by the imminence of certain doom.

"Yes."

Sarah looked at Drew. His eyes darted nervously back and forth from the man whose wife he'd been intimate with. An understandable discomfiture, she reasoned. She held onto his hand tighter and looked back at Camnath. "Why have you chosen Drew?"

The Sin'dorei smiled winsomely but did not elaborate. His eyes dropped to their hands. " _Please_  do not break contact, or I will be reabsorbed into you before I have had a chance to tell you what it is you need to know." They tightened their grip. Camnath continued. "We are but captains of the ship, so-to-speak, Sarah. We are the beacons."

"I don't understand," Sarah said.

"Did A'dal not explain?" Camnath asked.

"She only said,  _"You will be drawn to the Light as it is drawn to you_ ". I do  _not_ understand, no. She was somewhat enigmatic - or maybe it is just me who, simply doesn't understand. I asked if I was to call Azeroth forth again but she said no. Azeroth drew the Void to us in the first place."

"Yes, she did, albeit unintentionally." A winsome smile crossed Camnath's lips. "Every action has consequence, Sarah, even when that action is done in good faith and with honourable intentions." His eyes wandered around the room, taking in his surroundings. He wore an expression of approval. Turning his attention back to his captive audience, he continued. "We cannot exist without mobocracy. All good must be balanced by evil. If only one exists then there will be obliteration, nothingness. The Void wishes to drain  _all_  that is good in the world, all that is pure, true, wholesome. If it succeeds, and only evil reigns, Azeroth will be no more. She will be pulled apart, piece by piece."

 _Every action has consequence, even when that action is done in good faith and with honourable intentions,_ Sarah mused. That was exactly where she found herself now. That being the case, whatever she did next would also have consequence, and what, pray tell would that entail this time?

"Fear not Sarah, you will know what to do when the time comes," Camnath said.

"I doubt it! This sounds so much bigger than what I have done already, and keep in mind, I was not alone, others helped."

"As others will do so again, but it will not be the Titans who aid you this time. In truth, it will be something much more powerful. The Void's stratagem, however, has already been put into play. We must act fast. To do that, we need you and the demon elf."

"Illidan? Because of his connection with the Naaru?"

"Yes."

"You say ' _we_.' A'dal told me you would lead us to another like yourself." she said.

Camnath looked back at Drew. "I will, but with  _your_ help."

Drew's brow furrowed. "Me? I know little if anything about this Void or spirits –"

"You know Bernie." Camnath said.

Drew stared at him, riveted. The slow dawn of realisation was not a particularly joyous event. This spirit had invaded him in Edinburgh, had been inside him when he was with Bernie, which meant... He shook his head, he did not want to even think about  _that_.

Camnath chuckled. "Do not worry on that account. I am in effect, an intangible entity. I feel emotion, yes, but I cannot erm... experience certain things."

Drew's face flushed. "You read minds though, I see." His discomfort was not being eased.

"Only yours, for you are my host." The spirit offered a reassuring smile. "Together, Drew, we will find her." 

" _Why_? She used me to get here, that was all." Drew was instantly defensive. The tension passed to Sarah who threw him a sympathetic smile.

"No. The girl  _does_  like you,  _more_  than that actually, I assure you." Camnath stated. "But, she was also driven."

A few moments passed in which time Sarah started to piece some things together. Her hand tightened around Drew's. She looked at her best friend, the smile curving her mouth now an indication of her understanding. That smile conveyed the message to Drew.

He looked up at the elf again. "Bernie is the other host, isn't she? That's the connection I have been feeling?"

Camnath nodded. He crossed his arms over his chest, a knowing look flashed in his eyes and his mouth twitched at the corners.

"And the spirit?" Drew asked, knowing the answer already.  _Why do I even ask the obvious?_ he thought. Camnath simply raised an eyebrow and grinned. Drew nodded. "Tiene." He whispered. With his free hand, he ran his fingers through his hair and flopped against the sofa backrest, still holding Sarah's hand. " _That_ explains some things," he said, more to himself than to them.

"Prepare yourselves for a surprise when you see her," Camnath said smiling. "She is no longer as you saw her last, she is now Sin'dorei, as she was born to be, and beautiful beyond words." His eyes misted over as he thought of her.

"The girl in the black dress with the butterflies –" Sarah said suddenly. Looking up she noted the elf had tensed. His eyes avoided hers. She recalled the feeling of hostility between Camnath and the platinum-haired man. It appeared it still hit a raw nerve. She changed the subject. "If we break contact, does that mean we can never communicate with you like this again?"

The Sin'dorei moistened his mouth with the tip of his tongue before answering. "No. When you connect like you are now, I will materialise again. But, I ask you to only call me forth if it is truly necessary."

"Why?"

"We are creatures of the Light, but unlike your gift, it is only borrowed. Even within Drew's body, I am still part of the Nether but if I am summoned into the real world like this too often, my spirit will weaken and intersperse to the cosmos, after which I will be of no use to you, nor to Azeroth."

She was the one to avoid eye contact now. "My  _gift_!" she murmured, drawn back into her earlier despondency.

"Sarah," Camnath's voice was soft. He hunkered down, facing her. She lifted her eyes to him. "I can hear your conversations when I am travelling within Drew," he said. "I am aware of what was discussed before you called me forth. As such, I want you to consider something. You see your newfound immortality as a curse, but imagine it from my point of view." He faltered and his voice trembled at that point. "I can never, nor ever will, be able to hold or love my Tiene again the way I used to. Yes, we embrace, but it merely gestures, a memory of gesture even, it is not tangible. You, as an immortal will always have that ability. You will be able to feel your loved ones, to share a hug, a kiss, to hold hands, to make love. These wondrous things, we will never know again.

"It may seem a daunting, lonely, even frightening prospect right now, especially as you think about those in your life today and how they will fare throughout the years. But hear me when I say, to die is no more a blessing than it is to live forever. You cannot even physically hold your heart's desire in the Nether, you just play out memories, act the part, and we have to work hard at holding on to those memories too, because when they fade, so do we. And if we wander the Nether for too long and our memories fade, we simply become sorrowful, empty, aimlessly floating ethereal beings."

"But you can be reborn! You can meet up again," she said, desperately voicing what she hoped would be the truth and trying to keep her own pain and that of his from surfacing in its entirety.

He lowered his head, caught up in the longing and the pain. "Too long on the other side and -," he sighed, looking back at her, " – even if we  _are_ reborn, we may never find each other again or know of who we once were, or of how fiercely we loved each other, fought or prayed together. I hope we do, but -" Again he took a moment.  "In many ways, it is more frightening to leave the Nether than it is to remain in its grasp. So, is death a blessing? No, it is not." When his eyes locked with Sarah's once more, his smile returned. "I sense you, however, will be alright, Sarah. There will always be love around you. It will be in many guises and come and go, as do the years, but it  _will_  always be replenished."

She stared at her hand still locked with Drew's. Her own pain was still very much to the fore, but she could also understand what it was Camnath and Tiene faced. They too had uncertainty ahead of them. She looked up and studied the man before her.  _No wonder Tiene fell in love with you,_  she thought.  _Everything about you is beautiful._ "And what happens to you and Tiene once we battle the Void?" she asked.

Camnath took a deep breath and stood tall again. He glanced between the two of them, before turning his eyes to the window, to the world outside. After a moment's contemplation, he faced them and answered, "Then, hopefully, we will have served our purpose and we will leave you be, to live your lives as the fates intended."

And there it was - uncertainty again, but with a note of finality. None of it had allayed her fears, her concerns or eased the pain. Perhaps it may have even intensified them. "I - I hear what you are saying Camnath, but still, the thought of losing..."

"Sarah! What is going on?"

Drew and Sarah flinched at the sudden interruption. Their eyes moved to the door. There stood Khadgar, his eyes hooded, tired. Sarah stood, breaking the contact with Drew. She gasped, her face full of tribulation as Camnath's spirit dispersed and was absorbed once more inside her friend. 

Her heart was hammering - she could hear it pounding in her ears. "I didn't hear you come back," she stammered pathetically looking back at Khadgar.

The Archmage held her gaze for a moment then it drifted to Drew. He didn't answer, his expression was unreadable as he turned cold steel eyes back to her.

Drew cleared his throat and rose from the sofa. "Khadgar, we need to talk to you about ..."

"Drew, if you don't mind I wish to speak with Sarah." The Archmage moved further into the room. " _Alone_." His voice was low, and there was a definite undertone which informed Drew Khadgar was not in the mood for visitors. It was time to go.

He glanced at Sarah, reluctant to leave and yet knowing there was no choice. She nodded and gave him a brief smile. He moved passed Khadgar, mumbling a salutation. The steel eyes locked with his, but no exchange was made otherwise.

Sarah stood, lightly wringing her hands, glancing past Khadgar's shoulder until she heard the closing click of the front door. Her eyes drifted back to the familiar grey orbs. "How was your day?" she asked, quietly chastising herself for trying to make meaningless small talk with the one man with whom silence should be comfortable.

In this instance, it was anything but. Her emotions were still in turmoil and today's revelations were not something she would be able to discuss easily with him. Her brow furrowed and she blinked rapidly. It was taking an immense effort for her not to cry again.

Khadgar walked over to the sideboard and poured some wine. He handed her a glass, she accepted with a whispered thank you. She watched from under her lashes as he emptied his glass in one and dragged the back of his hand across his mouth. She continued watching as he refilled his glass and repeated the process one more time.

His eyes locked on her. They swam in a pool of a million emotions, ebbing and flowing constantly shifting that she knew not what he was thinking. It was unbearable. "Talk to me," she pleaded.

He scoffed and turned back towards the sideboard. She followed him over and placed her hand on top of his as he reached for the wine bottle again. "Please," she said. "Don't shut me out."

He guffawed. Taking a moment to compose himself he then turned to face her. His eyes held her, almost boring into her. "Don't shut you out," he laughed again, shaking his head. "The irony is Sarah, I am trying to shut you  _in_. To keep you safe. You and Ocel. Yet, I come home to find you trying to escape."

She shook her head. "What? Escape? No, you have..."

"Things are different now!" In that moment his eyes changed, softened, almost pleading. He pressed on, a note of desperation in his voice. "I – I have to protect you and our son. We face a foe who can unleash a truly apocalyptic series of events, and I feel – " His voice cracked. " _Helpless_."

She put down her glass and placed her hands on the sides of his face. This was not like the man she knew. So despondent. He held her gaze for a moment, then turned away, crossing the room to where she had sat with Drew. He stood, staring at the sofa, his back to her, shoulders heaving. "What was going on here?" His voice had hardened once more.

She swallowed. She could not refuse this opportunity to tell him, excruciatingly hard though it was going to be.

A flicker of hope presented itself to her, in that perhaps he would not feel so helpless in defending her and Ocel if he knew she could not die. At least letting him know he was free from worry in that area might ease things? She knew it would not, but she had nowhere left to go with this. She had no choice but to simply tell him the truth. As much as she knew anyway.

She crossed the room and stood behind him. Praying he would not shirk from her touch. She entwined her fingers with his. He turned his head slowly to look at her. An interminable sadness lay in those pale grey eyes. His fingers curled around hers.

"I have a confession to make," she said softly.


	20. Draenor Awaits

 

 

 

 

The winds raged and screamed their way through the rough crags that enclosed the orc village of Wor'gol. Distant avalanches spewed up giant blankets of snow mingling with the snowdrifts whipped up from the surrounding plains. White death stretched out over the landscape and it was advancing on the Frostwolve's settlement. Visibility at a minimum, preparations for the clan moving east would soon be seriously hampered.

Staring out between the hides that served as a door to the central circular hut, the orc shaman and Farseer of the clan, Drek'thar sat contemplating. He was drumming his fingers on the wolf's head armrest of the elaborately carved throne, trying hard to maintain his austere demeanour. 

He watched as the snow blew in, dusting the entrance before melting from the heat generated by the brazier burning in the centre of the building. Glistening pools from the melted snow surrendered shortly after, vaporized from the warmth of the hut.

His mood was as dark as his people's predicament. It had been five days since he had sent Galurk and San'ti through the portal with an escort to find the Archmage Khadgar. He was impatient for news. Things were starting to unravel in Draenor. He could not wait any longer. Today had to be the final day.

An enormous black cloud lay off the northern coast over the Zanger sea. Pulsating like an angry, ominous hail-producing nimbus it threatened to release the foul pestilence known as the Void Lords, upon the land. An evil which the Farseer knew would end all life in Draenor and beyond if they did not somehow receive help from allies in Azeroth.

Drek'thar's visions confirmed Draenor's invaders were still out with the realm's boundaries, but they were somehow, managing to infiltrate the land and his tribe. Disputes had manifested into all-out bloody assaults on neighbours, friends and kin. The Void was invading the minds of his people. He had ordered those involved in the conflict to be shackled and kept under guard. He hoped that if they could defend against the Void, the Frostwolves would revert back to normal, peaceful followers of the shamanistic faith. 

But simmering underneath was the very real dread that the enemy's pernicious influence had already reached Azeroth as well. If that was the case, then their allies may soon become their new foes. Time was running out! 

Two huge wolves lay at Drek'thar's feet, their yellow eyes keeping a close watch on the doorway. Darkor, the male on Drek'thar's left, stood and omitted a growl from deep within its throat as it heard someone approaching. Its lips curled back up over its teeth in a terrifying snarl and the hackles pricked all down its back. The door hides were swept back and two orcs entered the hut. Their winter furs were caked in hardened snow as were their boots. The snow fell from their shoulders soon enough as they strode forward and offered the Farseer rightful obeisance.

The shaman stretched out and patted the wolf's head. "Steady there, Darkor."

Ercka , the she-wolf, stared at the male wolf and her throaty reprimand quieted the young alpha. Darkor lay down again, his yellow eyes still flashing with distrust at the orcs. With one last stifled growl, he lowered his head back on his huge paws.

"Well?" Drek'thar demanded as the two scouts halted in front of him.

"Farseer Drek'thar," the larger of the orcs, Aggu'Tar, bowed. "The Iron Horde are indeed massing in Gorgrond, they are appointing their new leaders."

"Bah!" Drek'thar made a dismissive gesture with his hand. Darkor's head came up again, thinking it a signal from his master, but soon resumed his silent vigil again as Drek'thar communicated with the two orcs. "They are wasting their time and are now the least of our concerns."

The second orc dared to protest. "But Drek'thar, for all their numbers have been considerably depleted and their powerful leaders disposed of, if they march, they will still outnumber us by ten to one."

"More like twenty to one with our own people fighting among themselves." Drek'thar growled. "That said, Mulurg, we have a greater foe on the horizon and this one will wipe us  _all_ out if we do not get the help we need from the human Archmage and his forces."

"He is but a wizard. You speak as though he is a general," Mulurg scoffed.

Drek'thar rose abruptly, the large tusks hanging from his belt clacking hollowly against each other. The two orcs stepped back, alerted to the shaman's anger. "He  _is_  a general for all he is a master spell-weaver. He rallies the nations from all factions and bravely stood with us to defeat Blackhand, Gul'dan and their vile followers. Do not  _dare_  voice disrespect of the man."

Mulurg bowed nervously. "Forgive me, Drek'thar."

The Farseer merely grunted as he stepped down from the dais. He shambled across to the central brazier, hoisting the clefthoof shoulder guard in place. The wolf furs of his robe trailing over the drying puddles of melted snow. "What news of Galurk and San'ti?"

"Waquro has sent word from Stonard. He said that winged creatures, like demons, took Galurk and San'ti." Aggu'Tar reported.

The shaman spun round. " _Took_? Did Waquro not fight?"

"He said the creatures were too..." the orc seemed almost embarrassed.

"Too  _what_!"

"Fast and powerful."

Drek'thar clenched his fists. "By the elements, our only hope has been snatched from under our noses!"

"Waquro thinks not, Drek'thar."

The shaman moved back towards the dais. "Explain," he said tautly, before sitting down once more on the throne.

"News is that Waquro and the two orcs gave chase, but the demonic creatures flew out over a place called Deadwind Pass where Waquro lost sight of them. Next day when he resumed searching for Galurk and San'ti again he came across three humans, who he is bringing back here."

"Bringing them back? Why? What is his rationale for this?"

Aggu'Tar resumed his position in front of Drek'thar. "He does not go into great detail but mentions something of a 'spiritual' nature."

The shaman leaned heavily on one fist while drumming his fingers on the opposite armrest. "We cannot wait any longer," he said finally. "Spread the word, we leave within the hour."

"What of Waquro and the orcs?"

"Send a message that we will meet them at the Dark Portal. They are not to risk teleporting here."

"Yes, Drek'thar." The two orcs bowed and backed their way out of the hut.

The shaman watched pensively, as the hides slipped back into place once the orcs exited the building and the drifting snow returned to its persistent attempt at dusting the threshold. 

Drek'thar slammed his fist on the armrest of the throne. Drakor and Ercka both instantly alert, a low growl emitted from both. "Steady my beauties," Drek'thar said, looking down at both the wolves. They cocked their heads, listening intently to their master. "It is merely my frustration I am venting. Seems we will be leaving our home sooner than intended."

Outside, Frostfire was in its perpetual blanket of snow and ice, with its pockets of lava and molten rock dotted throughout the region. Winds were howling through the gorges, whipping up enormous walls of drifting snow. It was an unforgiving landscape but held a fierce beauty with it contrasting fire and ice. 

Now, however, there was a force trying it's best to invade and devour the land and its people. In order for them to survive, it was imperative to move. Their annual migration would be earlier than normal, and not to their usual destination of Nagrand. Instead, Drek'thar had decreed they go to the Dark Portal in the Taanaan Jungle. 

And, if need be, he was taking his people to Azeroth.

 

**_Music: EXPECTATIONS by 2WEI_ **

 

Illidan was still seething. He could not fathom the Archmage and other members of the Six thinking. Exactly as he had predicted, they were going to waste time pouring over books and debating what they might do, could do and should do. Once the Archmage had returned to Stormwind, as Illidan had suggested, he had decided to take matters into his own hands. Such was his annoyance with the incident in the Citadel. His mind recapped the whole ludicrous event.

Earlier in the Filthy Animal Inn Khadgar had rethought his approach after his debate with Illidan and decided to teleport the Frostwolves to the Violet Citadel. There he had decided to let them tell the rest of the council the recent events and that of Drek'thar's concerns. Illidan had once more accompanied the Archmage.

The presence of the orcs in the sacred room had the council noticeably stunned but it was nothing compared to what their faces displayed when the seven and a half foot demon hunter had entered the Chamber of Air.

     "What is the meaning of this?" Modera, the Champion of Tirisgarde had voiced. "How did you get in here!" The chamber was strictly off-limits to anyone other than the Six.

Kalecgos, one-time dragon aspect of the Blue Dragonkin was the first to notice Khadgar emerging from the portal behind the strangers and he nudged Modera. He gave her a look or warning and drew her attention to Khadgar. 

It was not her place to question the actions of their Leader. Kalecgos was used to her challenging ways with leaders though. She had been the same with Jaina Proudmore. Although he had not then been a member of the Six when Jaina was leader, he had nonetheless been her lover.

Modera's somewhat contemptuous attitude then had been to do with the "relationship" between himself and Jaina. Modera had always been quick to question the validity of their leader's decisions, thinking her mind was often left in between the bedsheets instead of focusing on Kirin Tor business.

He suspected somehow the same contentious approach was aimed towards Khadgar because of his relationship with the woman Sarah. Modera had never approved of certain vows being ignored or dismissed, as she was of the opinion to do so, marred the clarity of thought one needed to hold the post of Leader of The Kirin Tor.

Khadgar had strode in purposefully, his face deadly serious. He took his place at the head of the large ornate table, where he stood, knuckles resting on the wooden surface, deep in thought before looking up at the council and his invited guests.

He eyed each of the council members in turn as he spoke. "Before you start voicing your disapproval of the outsiders -" Illidan tensed at the term and the Archmage's steel eyes caught it. He showed no apology or recognition that his terminology caused insult, he merely carried on. "...being present within these walls, then I suggest you listen and listen well."

The tension in the room was far from diffused by his words. Illidan scanned the individuals in front of him. All of the council were Archmages, but none of them nor their powers concerned him in the slightest. The only one that could perhaps best him was Khadgar. Maybe. Even the Dragon Aspect Kalecgos, seemed unimpressive. Perhaps that was because his wings had been clipped so-to-speak. He was the only one, however, who was not entirely human. Rightly or wrongly, that made Illidan less belligerent towards him. 

He still thought, however, with the Six now being predominantly human there were many gaps in its potential for power. There were plenty others who could serve well on this council. Others more powerful and who would introduce perhaps a less biased thinking. He was certain in fact, that they would most likely be more proactive, bringing a wealth of new knowledge and the ability to move beyond all the incessant talking.

Khadgar continued. "Galurk and San'ti here," he indicated the orcs with a wave of his hand, "have been sent to us to ask for help..."

     "Sent? From where?" Modera cut in.

Khadgar threw an impatient look in her direction. She instantly bowed her head from his admonishment. Illidan grinned.

     "Draenor." Khadgar answered.

All the Archmages voiced disbelief. The portal had been destroyed, this was a monstrous ploy, what purpose, sent by who...

Khadgar cleared his throat, loudly. Silence befell the room. All eyes were upon him. "The shaman, Farseer Drek'thar has managed to reopen the portal to send these individuals forward in time to ask for our help in defeating the Void."

Illidan heard one or two sharp intakes of breath at the mention of the enemy. Khadgar went on. "Drek'thar has sensed its presence in Draenor. It has not, as far as we know, for now, managed to infiltrate the planet but its influence has been reaching out to the people of Frostfire and..." he paused momentarily glancing at Illidan. The demon hunter thought he detected a note of defeat.  "...it may have the ability to reach as far as our lands and our people."

     "What do we know of this Void?" Vargoth asked. Illidan studied the Archmage Vargoth with his elemental companion by his side.

     "In truth, very little. But, Illidan here knows something of it and he, together with..." Khadgar looked agitated, his expression hard but unreadable. "...some  _others_ will assist. Meanwhile, Galurk and San'ti will fill you in on the situation from Draenor."

The Archmages turned their attention to the orcs as they relayed their story once more. As they did, Kalecgos conjured a levitating globe of Draenor. The Frostwolves indicated where their village was and where Drek'thar predicted the first attack from the Void would occur. They followed the presumed advance path of the Void right down to the Dark Portal. They said their comrades would be waiting most likely at Stonard, presuming they had attempted to return to the Portal after the demon hunters had found the orcs.

"Wait! One moment," Khadgar interrupted. "There were more of you came through?"

"Yes," San'ti said. "I'm sorry Khadgar, I thought we had said."

"No, you did not. Tell me, how many?"

"Three others. Waquro, he is a Tauren warrior and Elder with the Ragetotem tribe, and two more orcs Belmar and Hagus. They were escorting us when the ..." she glanced a little nervously at Illidan. "...when the demon hunters took us."

Illidan grunted, a smirk playing on his mouth.

Khadgar stood, arms crossed, one hand raised to his chin while he listened intently as the orcs' continued again with their story. Illidan crossed the room to stand next to him. Quietly, he asked, "What do your council think they can do?"

Khadgar sighed. "Whatever they can, Illidan. As we are limited in our knowledge of this enemy, we will need to research it."

"I doubt you will have much time to research, Khadgar. We need to act  _now_."

"We cannot act without being prepared!" Modera shot at him from across the table.

Illidan instantly disliked the woman although he had never met her until a few moments ago. It was just an intrinsic feeling he harboured. "Do not talk to  _me_  about being prepared!" he growled back.

The woman scoffed. "I know who you are demon hunter and I am not intimidated by you."

"Then we are equal. You and you puny council do not impress me neither."

The woman was noticeably offended by the manner in which he addressed the Six.

"Enough!" Khadgar slammed his fist on the table. Silence washed over the chamber like a tidal wave. He was tired and it did not take much to test his patience. His eyes burned with anger. Their bickering was digressing from the matter in hand. 

He moved around the table so he stood between them. "We are here to form a plan of defence. Now ..." He looked at the demon hunter, his eyes clearly expressing that he wanted this discussed in an orderly and constructive manner, "... explain what you know."

 

 

Modera stepped back as attention was now drawn to the demon hunter. Illidan however, seemed focused on the woman. "The Void is shadow, beyond anything you have experienced. It is dark against light. Despondency against hope. It will turn you and this world into nothing. We will be but specks of dust in a vast universe lost and forgotten, forever.

     "It starts by manipulating its prey, turning brother against brother, father against son, husbands against wives..." he turned for a moment to look at Khadgar. "... friends against friends. It knows no mercy. It is simply ravenous, voracious and will destroy everything in its path."

     "And how is it you know so much!" Modera sneered.

     Illidan faced the haughty Archmage again. "It was made known to me through a vision when the Naaru spoke with me."

     "How convenient. A near dead race told you this?" she hissed.

 

**_Music: BOUND BY PURPOSE - composed by David Travis Edwards._ **

 

 

 "You are a heartless woman!" Illidan boomed. "The Naaru are bordering on extinction and it is  _their_  light that can save us, not your pathetic attempts at sorcery. You really are  _not a_ very learned woman, are you?"

Modera stiffened. She was not accustomed to being spoken to in this manner. And by a hybrid creature who for centuries had been loathed by his own people? She was not going to let him get away with that so easily. "According to you though  _demon_ , we are  _all_ nearing extinction if what you said is true. Time is running out if we are to believe you and these... _orcs_." She sneered.

Khadgar threw a warning look at her, but she was not going to back down. Neither was the demon hunter. "Then I suggest you stick your nose in the books that you swear by, and try and work out a way to at least be of  _some_ use in the coming battle."

That had pushed her too far. Before anyone knew what had happened she cast a bolt of frost at Illidan. Illidan had seen it coming and deflected her spell with one of his own. Then he muttered a Thalassian chant and Modera was levitated high above the others. His taloned hand steered her kicking, flailing figure towards one of the windows. The others in the room started to conjure defensive spells. Khadgar signalled to them to desist.

     " _Illidan_!" Khadgar shouted, his voice echoing around the chamber. "I will not tolerate such aggression in my Citadel."

The demon hunter turned his bound sockets towards him. "Then tell your insipid  _pets_ to behave and show respect to those greater than them."

  "You arrogant creature! I will not respect the likes of you!" Modera screamed down.

"I was not speaking of myself, you foolish woman." Illidan shot back at her.

"Put her down, Illidan," Khadgar's voice was low but full of threat. "And gently!"

The demon hunter glanced around the room. The others had ceased forming spells. With a grunt, he lowered Modera to the floor. She stood, slightly shakily, glaring at the demon hunter.

Turning to Khadgar, Illidan lowered his voice, its timbre equally threatening. "I will take these orcs back to their comrades and make no mistake Khadgar, Sarah  _will_  be involved in this. She has abilities you and your obedient little servants cannot hope to best from reading books. I suggest you speak with her to understand better."

Without waiting for a response, Illidan then herded the orcs towards the portal which would return them to the Filthy Animal Inn.

He assumed Khadgar had the sense to take his advice and teleport home to speak with Sarah on the matter. Regardless, Illidan would be flying back to Stormwind later for her.

He could sense the Void readying itself for breaking through. The repercussions were going to be of epic proportions once that happened. He had not voiced it, but the reality was, if the Void destroyed Draenor, it would in effect also wipe out Outland without so much as looking at it. 

Outland was the future of Draenor, and once the past was erased, then the present and future would cease to exist too. They had to stop the Void and its Lords before that happened because then it would turn its eye towards the Dark Portal, and Azeroth.

That was only a few hours earlier, and now he was almost at Stonard, where the orcs said their comrades would be most likely camped. He was accompanied by Arcanea, Kayn and four others. The war with the Void would start soon, of that he was certain.


	21. Stonard Stop

 

Waquro grunted as his enormous form hit the floor of the hut he had commandeered for the troupe in Stonard. The hard earthen floor was covered in straw woven rugs, hides draped on coarsely made pallets and dotted with small stools for sitting. Some rickety shelving secured by vines was host to various pots, bowls and jugs, some precariously near the edge, looking ready to drop at the slightest movement. A low table was adorned with bowls of worrying types of food, mostly meat, which the humans gathered once lived and crawled in the swamp. Thankfully, there were some slices of bread and cheeses, along with some fruit. A large jug of ale and another of water was also on offer. The earthlings eyed the water suspiciously having failed to see a fresh water supply anywhere in the settlement.

Two windows had been carved out of the mud and twig baked hut looking out to the rear of the settlement affording the lovely view of the wooden barrier wall that protected the huts from the swamp. A lit campfire sat in the centre, it's smoke sifting upwards and out through the hole that served as a flue for the building. For all it was early afternoon now, the thick canopies of the swamp kept the place in partial darkness, so it was a case of tolerating the heat of the brazier or sit in the murk until it turned pitch later.

Bernie, Mel and Mick chose to sit near the outer edge of their accommodation. The smell of dried urine emanated from Mick, the stain on his trousers a visual reminder of his reprimand from the Tauren earlier that day. Along with the sweat, which granted they all suffered from, the aromas in the hut were none too pleasant.

"Can we wash anywhere?" Bernie asked Waquro. "Other than with the crocolisks I mean."

The Tauren's laughter was deep and it rumbled low in his chest. "There are facilities to the left; if you are brave enough to use them."

Bernie nodded and ventured outside to where Waquro gestured. She came across a roughly made wash hut which offered little really in the way of privacy. It was constructed from sturdy enough verticals cut from the surrounding trees and a thickly woven lining which seemed to be a mixture of grasses and vines ran around like a shower door. It enabled the bather to see over the top. Unfortunately, it also meant others could see in if they got close enough. The top had an enormous jug-like container which was filled from hollowed out branches that were engineered to utilise a pump. A tough vine served as the means to tip the jug and its contents over the bather.

She glanced around to see how many unsavouries were in the vicinity. Some orcs were busying themselves at the small forge at the far side of the enclosure. Another couple worked under a low-roofed structure, scraping and de-hairing hides.

More still, seemed to be patrolling the perimeter and she caught occasional glimpses of them as they passed the gates to the settlement. Others were high up in the two watchtowers. A rather well-dressed blood elf, who leaned up against one of the watchtowers, looked haughtily in her direction. He seemed of no threat but she gave him a scowl which clearly conveyed that he "look away". With a slight twitch of his mouth, he did.

 

**_Music: SIX RIBBONS - Didrik Solli-Tangen_**  

She considered her options. Stink to high heaven or risk giving the orcs an eyeful for a few moments and end up feeling refreshed. She could keep her underwear on so she would be decent at least. She looked around the structure until she located where she could enter.

Carefully she undid the vine tie and a section in the surround opened to allow her access. Once inside she reached over to secure the tie again. She stepped out of her jeans and pulled off her t-shirt. They smelled bad too. She wished she had soap to wash them, but it was a luxury which was highly unlikely to be a consideration in such a feculent community. She draped her clothes over the shoulder-high barrier, then moved to the centre of the shower hut. Reaching out she took a firm grip of the vine and tugged hard. She screamed. The water was unexpectedly and shockingly ice cold.

Mel came shooting out of the hut to see what was wrong and caught sight of Bernie's slumped shoulders just above the wash hut surround. Her hair was drenched. His eyes turned to a blood elf who, with his back turned to Bernie, stood laughing. On further inspection, he saw a number of amused faces all around their location. He could also hear Waquro's deep laughter from within the hut.

When Bernie pulled her hair back from her face, her eyes caught Mel's. He tried his best, but the traitorous twitch at the corners of his mouth gave him away. Bernie glowered, then slowly she started to laugh too.

"Would I be right in thinking that you would perhaps prefer a  _warm_  shower, my lady?" the blood elf asked over his shoulder.

Bernie's laughter ceased. She looked towards the blood elf. His face was still inclined to the side, and he was obviously awaiting her answer. Her eyes darted to Mel. He shrugged and pouted. If the elf could somehow ensure it, why not? Had to better than her screaming every time the water hit her.

She cleared her throat. "I would indeed sir, yes, but I doubt it will help the stench without soap."

The blood elf made a gesture with his hand. Bernie caught her breath as warm water suddenly cascaded over her. She looked up. Another wave of his hand and a bar of soap appeared in mid-air. Twitching his fingers the bar levitated towards her.

She smiled and reached out over the screen, catching the bar as it neared her. Stepping back, she lifted the soap to her nose. It was the most beautiful scent, fresh, soft and warm like vanilla and honeysuckle. "Thank you," she said. 

She glanced back at Mel. Her friend nodded and went back into the hut, happy that she was under no threat.

"You are most welcome," the elf answered. "We seldom have pretty ladies through here, so we are not equipped for your needs."

Bernie smirked. This one was a charmer. "You are a warlock?" she asked as she lathered herself thoroughly.

" _No_ , my lady." He sounded offended. "I am a  _mage_."

"Oh! Well, both do magic, so what's the difference?" Game-wise, she never did understand what it was that made one class better than the other.

She watched the elf as he leaned against the watchtower again and crossed his arms. "We are superior," he said with an aloof timbre to his voice. "We have much more class than warlocks or sorcerers whatever you wish to call them. Without doubt we are more focused and more powerful."

"Warlocks can summon demons," she said conversationally.

"A sign that they are incapable of working alone if you ask me. Minions should only be used if  _absolutely_ necessary," he replied.

She smirked. "They can produce health stones and fonts to replenish their comrades."

"We can conjure food and some of the finest vintages in the land," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Warlocks can create fear to repel enemies." She started washing her clothes.

"I can turn them into sheep." The mage was not one for being beaten.

She tried one more. "They make gateways to propel you forward or back."

The elf scoffed. "I, my lady, make portals to help you cross continents, even worlds."

Bernie laughed lightly. This one would have an answer for everything of that she was certain. She had finished lathering her clothes and was rinsing them off. "What is your name, if I may ask?" she said.

"I am Alaen Nightstrider," the mage said with a flamboyant bow. "And I believe I am your ticket out of here." He slowly ventured across, hands behind his back, a cheeky grin on his face.

Bernie inched closer to the shower surround, trying to conceal herself from his curious eyes. "Erm ..." Her mouth twitched nervously.

With a sudden flurry of his hand a silken robe wrapped around her. By the time he had reached the edge of the shower, she was fully covered. His cheeky grin never wavered. "Your clothes will dry soon," he indicated the vapour already dispersing from the fabrics. "The heat in the swamp, as you can tell is quite ...  _intense_."

If she was not mistaken, this elf was being very flirtatious. Ordinarily, Bernie would have responded, but her sights were fixed elsewhere and for all that someone was far away, she sensed something was afoot that may change that. She stepped out from the shower and checked her clothes. The elf was not wrong, they would be dry soon.

The sudden sound of beating wings had all in the compound crouching or readying for battle. Bernie felt helpless dressed in a silken robe, her shards within the hut.

Waquro and Mel came outside, followed by a slightly nervous looking Mick. They all looked skyward, expecting to see green drakes the likes of which had attacked them earlier. What they actually saw was very unexpected. Waquro was standing defensively, his axe at the ready, Hagus and Belmar came round from the side of the hut, also bearing their weapons. Alaen was poised to fire frost bolts at the intruders.

Two orcs were being brought in to land in the clutches of demon hunters, another two flying beside them.

"Do not attack," San'ti shouted before she touched the ground.

"They are not the enemy. They have brought us back from a meeting with Khadgar." Galurk confirmed.

Instantly, Waquro lowered his weapon and signalled for all the others to do likewise. More wings could be heard and they looked to the canopies again. Three more of the creatures arrived. The tallest and bulkiest one clearly the leader.

Bernie looked at Mel and Mick, her jaw slack in utter astonishment. The three of them knew who this impressive creature was.

Waquro stepped forward. He greeted Galruk and San'ti before turning his eyes to the demon hunters. "Thank you, for enabling my colleagues to achieve audience with the Archmage. I am Waquro, Elder of the Ragetotem tribe."

The horned creature inclined his head. "I am Illidan Stormrage," he said. "And we have come to help."

Bernie felt very light-headed suddenly. Alaen stepped forward and grabbed her before her knees gave way. "What is the matter?" he asked her.

"Illidan," she replied. Her eyes widened as she saw the demon hunter look in her direction. "He knows Drew and Sarah." She smiled as she thought that just maybe, she was going to be reunited with Drew, and she could hopefully make him believe she had not just used him to find her way to Azeroth.

Then her body went limp in a dead faint.

 

"Is she sick?" Illidan asked the blood elf and the human who kneeled over Bernie.

"Lovesick perhaps," the blood elf grinned. His eyes met Mel's, who did not smile back. Alaen cleared his throat when he noted the disapproval in Mel's eyes then continued to aid Bernie, who was slowly coming round.

Her eyes fluttered open and she looked up at Mel. She furrowed her brow, embarrassed that she'd fainted. "I feel like such a numpty," she whispered, her eyes just peering past his shoulder at the Lord of the Demon Hunters.

"What on Azeroth is a 'numpty'?" Alaen asked with a wicked grin on his lips.

"An idiot!" Mel said, his hard stare at the mage clearly defining who he considered the idiot was.

Alaen leaned down to Bernie's ear, "Best tell your friend I can turn him into a sheep." Bernie shook her head a little, dispersing the mist of her sudden swoon. She glanced at the mage and Mel before focusing once more on the enormous demon hunter standing in front of Waquro. "Lord Illidan," she called out.

The seven and a half foot demon hunter turned towards her. She was in awe of him and a tad frightened as well. He was enormous, so much larger than she thought he would be, and he looked utterly menacing as he towered over them all. He simply looked in her direction, he did not utter a word at first. He seemed to be waiting for her to say something else. She took the cue. "Am I right in thinking you know Drew and Sarah?" She knew it sounded utterly ludicrous, just spilling out two names, but she also reckoned if what Drew had told her was true, then the demon hunter would know of whom she spoke. Her heart did somersaults when he replied.

"Yes, I do," his voice deep and strangely soothing.

Bernie scrambled up from the ground, Alaen offering a hand to steady her. She accepted but released it as soon as she was vertical. Hesitantly, she stepped forward. "Do you know where Drew is just now?" she asked.

From the hut, a petulant scoff was heard. All eyes turned as Mick came out from the shadows, looking even more dishevelled and smelling pretty rank. He mumbled something incoherent under his breath but Bernie was under no delusion that it would be derogatory. "Alaen," she said looking over her shoulder at the mage. "Any chance you can toss him in the shower and keep him there while he's made more hygienic, including his clothes?"

The blood elf grinned, a little wickedly, and replied with a flourish. "Whatever the lady desires." Quick as a flash, Mick was teleported to the shower and pinned in place by a binding spell before being liberally doused in water and soap. The spell rendered him silent too, much to the relief of all around them. A few low sniggers were heard before the attention returned to the conversation between Bernie and the Lord of the Illidari.

The demon hunter's head was cocked, as if scrutinizing some rare specimen. "You are from the same place as they are?" he asked.

Waquro watched the exchange between Bernie and Illidan with interest. This demon hunter was obviously closely affiliated with the two much-spoken-of individuals from another planet. As such he assumed he would quite possibly understand what significance the phenomenon surrounding Bernie implied.

"Yes, we are," the redhead replied, still a little uncertain of this huge demonised elf.

"And you know Sarah and Drew well?" Illidan asked, a dubious tone to his voice.

"Only Drew," she admitted, "...though not... _well_ well..." her face coloured a warm pink.

A muffled sound came from the shower, followed by a dull thud and splash as Alaen, with a slight adjustment to his spell, knocked Mick down to silence him, but continued with a rigorous scrubbing of the rancid human. Bernie's mouth twitched at the mage's ingenious method of silencing the irascible Mick.

The demon hunter stepped closer to the blushing redhead. "And so how are you  _here_ , with the horde?" his tone, while it implied suspicion of the connection between her and Drew, was not taken as a slight against Waquro or those around him.

Bernie flinched as he neared. He was daunting to say the least – impressive, but actually quite scary. The horns were so ridiculously huge, heavy and deadly looking, that one wondered how he managed to keep his head upright.

His physique was mesmerising, however. Glistening with a fine sheen of perspiration, it was all taut muscle and toned to perfection, the tattoos weaving a path across his broad pectorals and ample biceps, but more than that, it inculcated the prodigious strength and power of the one-time night elf. The demonhide wings, enormous, strong and threaded with pulsing veins, rippled in the unforgiving humidity and heat of the swamp.

Although his body had been ravaged by demonic forces, there was no denying the raw sexuality of such a man. Bernie caught herself teetering on another swoon and quickly shook her head to clear her thoughts. She cleared her throat. "A slight disagreement," she explained, a little embarrassed still. "And then Waquro, Belmar and Hagus here, found us in Deadwind Pass."

Illidan was now directly in front of her. With her eyes level at the midsection of his abdominals, she was most relieved she wasn't any shorter. Nerves coupled with her somewhat libidinous thoughts gave way to semi-hysterical laugh. 

Instantly she checked her manners. "Apologies," she said staring up to the runecloth wrap, "I am in awe of meeting you, and inclined to feel a bit giddy by all that has happened to us so far." She subconsciously gnawed her lip.

Waquro watched her curiously.  _Giddy?_   _Bernie?_  He thought. He snorted, mildly amused.

"Hmm," Illidan muttered. He glanced at Mel and the drenched Mick. "So, just the three of you? Or are there more hiding?"

"Just us three," Bernie replied. "But I was hoping to meet up with Drew again. I need to ... sort some things out with him."

"I have heard tell he is in Stormwind." Illidan said, straightening, lifting his head, oozing an air of superiority. "However, there are more important things at stake than your ... _lover's tiff_." He said with aplomb. "You will meet with him soon enough, but for now..." he grabbed her elbow and instantly an anguished cry left his lips.

Bernie's eyes widened as the demon hunter shuddered. She glanced at Mel, panicked by Illidan's sudden change in stature. She watched as the demon hunter's chest heaved. He staggered. "Tiene!" he gasped.

Bernie's jaw dropped, she recognised that name from the tales Drew had told her of his last visit to Azeroth. Illidan pulled her closer. She found herself tight against his body, her other hand automatically came up and pressed on his chest in an attempt to distance herself from the powerful demon hunter, but the act seemed to fuel whatever he was experiencing.

She glanced up and saw his fangs as his lips curled back. His head then fell forward, the huge horns almost colliding with her. His black ponytail swung forward and draped over her face. She tried to pull back but he kept hold of her. From the corner of her eye, she saw Waquro approaching. He stopped at their sides and watched with interest, slowly nodding.

The spectacle made Alaen lose concentration and his binding spell on Mick fizzled out. He stared at the mighty Lord of Demon Hunters who was absorbed in some strange reaction to the red-haired woman. Mick slowly stood and peered over the cubicle's wall, his eyes huge. Mel was dumbstruck, uncertain what to do.

Illidan inhaled sharply, pushing Bernie back, breaking their connection. He stood, panting, his head tilted in her direction, fangs still bared.

"You know the spirit she harbours?" Waquro asked, quite unfazed by what he had witnessed.

Illidan turned his attention to the tauren. "Yes!" he said breathlessly. "She was one of my lieutenants. You know of this - this..."

"Possession?" Waquro offered. Illidan nodded. "Yes." The Tauren stated. "Though I did not have a name for the spirit until now."

Bernie was still recovering from her close encounter, which, while not entirely unpleasant, was bizarre to say the least. "Drew spoke of her - this Tiene. And – and I dreamed of her the other night, she spoke of someone called..." she searched her memory for the name. "Camnath!"

Illidan faced her again. His composure returning. "He was her husband. He died before she became one of my Illidari."

Waquro stepped forward. "This is significant in the pending war?"

" _War_? What pending war?" Mel stammered. He clasped Bernie's hand.

The two orcs who the demon hunters had arrived with stepped forward. Galurk spoke. "There is much we need to discuss. I suggest we all retreat to the hut and share what we know."

Everyone mumbled agreement. All, including the drenched Mick disappeared into the hut.


	22. Partial To The Odd Dwarf

Gwen looked up the small hill from the cottage. There, leaning with his back against the lone tree, sat Drew. He had only grunted a hello when he'd returned from Sarah's and made a beeline for his present location. "What's wrang wi' the lad?" Gwen asked Erik as she hung out some laundry.

Erik glanced up from stocking his quiver. "Ah dinnae ken! He widnae speak tae me neither when ah went o'er tae see him."

"Well, obviously ye didnae try hard  _enough_!"

Erik huffed sorting another quiver. "Well ah'm goana try again in a meenit, yince Lhadral gits here. We're goin' tae tak him huntin'."

Gwen tutted. "Ach, you pair'll git that carried away ye'll probably shoot the lad up the arse."

"Gwenmora! S'ch language!" Erik scolded, dropping the quiver.

"Didnae ye dare gie me yer 'language' nonsense Erik Longmaster, or ah'll show ye exactly whar tae shove them arra's."

"Wheest wuman, folk'll hear ye." Erik smirked. He did enjoy winding her up.

She turned to him, hands on hips and a scowl on her face. "And whar the hell ur the folk  _oot here_ , Erik?" she said.

Erik simply grunted and continued with seeing to weapons and ammunition. He glanced up the hill at Drew. The lad had been inordinately quiet since returning from his trip with Sarah.

In fact, once Erik thought about it, he had been fairly secretive since his arrival in Azeroth. He knew something was bothering the lad, but he just couldn't fathom how to get him to open up. It vexed Erik, for he thought he'd been close enough to the boy for him to feel he could speak to him about anything.

"Good afternoon," a voice shouted from the approach to the cottage. Gwen looked round just as a huge panther bounded up over the rise towards her. Her eyes nearly popped from her head when the beast opened its huge maw in front of her face. Its hot breath was more than a bit ripe. Gwen waved her hand in front of her face to rid the smell, but the panther just nuzzled her hand. "What on Azeroth div ye feed Rishuul?" she asked the approaching hunter, with a look of disgust on her face. "Her breath is  _mingin_ '!"

"Oh she's partial to the odd dwarf," Lhadral replied with a smirk. He stood, arms crossed watching Gwen trying to get away from the affectionate panther.

Erik laughed at the look of mock effrontery on Gwen's face. "And ye cannae get much odder than that yin," he said, his eyes twinkling, nodding in Gwen's direction. He soon stopped laughing when she glowered at him.

Lhadral, a hunter who lived in Darnassus with his wife Umrii and their five children had come over with his wife when she insisted on seeing Khadgar and Sarah's son, Ocel, named after Umrii's late father. The night elf was close on seven foot tall, with long dark green hair and sporting a closely trimmed beard.

A seasoned hunter, highly skilled in the crossbow, his services were sought all over Kalimdor and one or two places in the Eastern Kingdoms. He'd gladly accepted Erik's invite to do a spot of hunting, especially when he heard about the dwarves' lodger. It was a chance to meet the man from the other world who his wife had portalled, along with Sarah, to meet with the Naaru in Shattrath. Everyone spoke fondly of Drew, so he thought it was about time to meet him.

He strode over to Gwen. After shooing Rishuul away he picked up the feisty dwarf, gave her a huge hug and noisy peck on the cheek. "And how is my favourite lady this fine day?" His velvet voice asked. He wore an enormous smile as he lifted her.

Gwen chortled. Being picked up in such a manner had her blushing. "Ah'm jist fine thank you Lhadral, a' the better fur seein' you lad, though ye better no let Umrii hear ye saying ah'm yer favourite, she might git jealous. Now pit me doon, ah'm getting' dizzy at this height."

Lhadral lowered her gently to the ground, soft laughter as he did so. As he turned to look at Erik he caught sight of Drew further up the incline. "Ah, so that's Drew. Something bothering him?" he asked.

"Aye," Erik replied, putting the last of the arrows in a second quiver. "He's a bit glum the now. Ah thought perhaps some male bonding wi' a huntin' trip might dae the lad gid."

"Hmm," Lhadral pondered. "With your record for injuring your party members, however, it may not be that good a plan," the night elf grinned.

Erik stopped what he was doing and huffed at the night elf. " _What_? Ah tell ye there's nowt wrang wi' ma ..."

"Calm it, little man," Lhadral grinned, patting Erik's shoulder. "I am only teasing you – and repeating what Taril said about you, of course." Again he grinned, wider this time as he heard Gwen laughing also. Erik huffed and grumbled under his breath.

Lhadral called Rishuul to him. "I think I will go talk to him," he said, starting off in the direction of the rise.

"Ye'll be lucky if he says a wurd," Erik called after him.

"We'll see," Lhadral said back, winking at Gwen.

The night elf took long deliberate strides towards the hilltop, Rishuul keeping close to his heel. He offered his hand in greeting as Drew looked up. "Hello," he said warmly. "I'm Lhadral, Umrii's husband."

Drew reached up and accepted his pro-offered hand. "Hello," he responded. "You obviously know who I am then."

 

 

Lhadral shook Drew's hand. "That I do. Thought I would come introduce myself before Erik shoots you."

     "What?" Drew's brow furrowed as he stood up when he saw the panther nearing him.

Lhadral laughed. "Oh, it's a family joke about him always injuring those he hunts with."

Drew smiled as memories of Taril's tales of misfortune came to mind from when he had visited with Lukha the first time. "Oh yes, I forgot about that."

     "May I join you?" Lhadral asked, indicating where Drew had spent a good bit of the afternoon.

     "Of course, although I may not be very good company."

     "Then it is my duty to cheer you up," the night elf smiled.  The panther nudged his legs and looked at Drew. "Oh this is Rishuul," Lhadral said. "She gets annoyed if I don't introduce her also."

Drew put the back of his hand towards the panther, allowing her to sniff him. She seemed to take her time and padded slowly around him. Finally, she nuzzled him. "Another bonus for you Drew, she hasn't tried to eat you."

Drew smiled as the panther curled around him, emitting a throaty purr. "She's beautiful," he said, genuinely impressed by the regal feline.

The two men sat down and at first they simply surveyed what was around them. Lhadral picked a blade of grass and started stripping it back. "So how did your meeting with the Naaru go then?" he asked straight out.

Drew leaned back against the tree, wondering if he should divulge anything. He didn't know this hunter, but it was safe to assume he was a decent guy going by his connections to those who Drew knew already. Then he considered how sometimes talking to a stranger was easier than those close to you. He glanced down the hill where Gwen and Erik still pottered about doing whatever chores or tasks they'd set themselves. He felt bad for not confiding in Erik especially. The dwarf had been nothing but a good friend and had welcomed him into his home, but he wasn't ready to burden him with what had happened yet. He sighed heavily, before answering. "I was only there for moral support," he started. "but Sarah came out with some blinders afterwards."

Lhadral tilted his head. "Blinders?"

     "Revelations. Some of which are not my place to discuss."

The hunter nodded understanding, but he wasn't for letting Drew slump into silence again. "So what  _can_  you reveal then?"

In an attempt to size up the man, Drew stared at him for a few moments. Lhadral stared back, unwavering. Drew saw honesty in the man's eyes and somehow, he deduced he could be a good friend to have. "Well, this will probably sound odd..."

Lhadral laughed lightly. "I doubt it."

Smirking, Drew continued, spilling everything he felt he could, which wasn't really that much considering no-one, including Umrii and her cousin, had been made aware of the Void. "I have a spirit inside me called Camnath Sunspear. He was the husband of Tiene, a demon hunter lieutenant..." 

He told Lhadral about Camnath's materialisation and was selective in sharing the information the spirit had divulged.  He explained how Khadgar had returned home looking less than pleased that he was there.  Lhadral reassured him it would most likely be duties with the Kirin Tor which had the Archmage on edge, not the fact he found Sarah's best friend sitting with her.  Drew was hoping he was right, although he had to admit, coming home to find your woman holding hands with another man and speaking with a ghost would be unsettling if nothing else.

Lhadral looked at him. Rishuul lay down between the two of them, her tail flicking in front of Drew's face. He tried to swat it away, but she just grumbled and continued flicking. The night elf grinned. "Rishuul thinks you are hiding something. There is more to this than you are letting on."

     " _Rishuul_ thinks?" Drew asked incredulously.

The hunter laughed, stroking the big cat's head. "Oh, she does, yes. And I agree with her. There is an ominous quality about your tale, Drew, one which I think may eventually involve us all."

On one hand, Drew was thankful that this man was so astute, while on the other, he now found himself in a place he did not want to be. "To be honest, I don't know too much of what is going on. All I know is it involves an enemy known as the Void, orcs from Draenor and the spirit inside me. We also need to find another spirit who to be honest I have no idea where to begin looking." And there it was. All out in the open, to a complete stranger. A sense of relief washed over Drew.

Oddly, the hunter didn't even flinch at the mention of the Void.  Drew wondered if it was something the Azerothians knew would eventually make an appearance. "I take it Sarah doesn't know where to look either?" Lhadral asked, stripping another blade of grass.

     "No. The only thing I know is that they are for the horde."

Lhadral raised his eyebrows. "Ah! That is...  unfortunate."

Drew shrugged, disappointed.  He had somehow hoped the night elf might have some idea how they could proceed. 

     "However," the elf went on, his lips forming a charismatic smile. "Rishuul is a good tracker, and if we can determine which way they went, along with something perhaps belonging to them or touched by them, then she should be able to get us on the right path."

Drew sighed. "I don't have anyth-"  _Oh, but I do! I don't think I want to show him_ that  _though_ , he thought.  The night elf looked at him expectantly. He was too smart.  He knew he had something.  Drew shrugged.  _What the hell_ , he decided.  Reaching into his jeans back pocket he produced the note Bernie had left tied to his person, the morning after their first night together. He handed it over to Lhadral, a look of slight embarrassment on his face.  

Lhadral read the note and smirked. Then he laughed openly.  "I'm not even going to ask," the elf said, slapping a friendly hand on Drew's shoulder.

Drew couldn't help but grin.

Sarah wiped the tears from her eyes. Khadgar's wordless mumblings were killing her. She had so hoped that she would have found some inner strength to tell him what he needed to know without crumbling every few words. But even having confided in Drew first and crying herself dry then, the task of telling Khadgar had not been made any easier. Especially when he avoided looking at her.

She sat on the sofa while he crossed the room and stared out of the window over Stormwind harbour. His shoulders were taut, the line of his jaw severe. She had only got as far as telling him she could read his thoughts and his wanting to keep things from her was what spurred her to go to Shattrath, to find out more about her abilities in a hope she would know what to do to help against the Void. Finally, he spoke, but his voice was low and dark. "You should have come to me instead of going to the Naaru."

A spark of hope ignited by the simple fact he had spoken."I doubt you would know anything about the Naaru and demon powers I possess. You may, however, have answers about the Void. Would you have told me anything though?" she asked.

He scoffed. "With a revelation such as your being able to read my mind, I would have thought there would be little use in trying to keep things from you."

She inched forward on the sofa, wondering if she should approach him or stay put. "I did not mean to probe, Khadgar," she said.

He turned to look at her but remained where he was. "Nonetheless, you did."

She sank into herself. It felt she was being chastised by a schoolmaster. "It just...happened. I knew I was hearing your thoughts for days, but..."

" _Days_?" he asked in a harsh whisper.

"Yes, but they were incoherent, I could not make out any words."

"So are you telling me you honed the ability?"

"I – I..." She couldn't bring herself to lie nor to admit that it was what she had attempted. Her lack of confirmation or denial gave him the answer he sought and he swept towards the door, his face rigid. "Wait!" she called after him. "There's more I need to tell you." It was impossible for her to keep the tremor from her voice.

He took a couple of steps backwards before he turned to face her. As she looked into his eyes, she couldn't help but wonder where 'her' Khadgar was now. This man in front of her was so stern, so cold. What had been going on to change him so? Surely it wasn't just because she had confessed to reading his mind and taking matters into her own hands. Impatience was behind his eyes also, waiting for her to confess some other crime.

"When I entered the Twisting Nether to get Illidan, I thought ...I thought I had survived the transition between our world and that of the dead."

Khadgar's lip twitched. "You obviously did Sarah, you are here now." No kindness in his tone.

"I died. The Naaru told me although it was for a brief moment, I had nonetheless passed from this life. Illidan had asked them to help him restore me, so that the fel would not harm our baby. But, a fragment of my soul still walks the Nether, making me incomplete."

She could see by his slightly furrowed brow he was trying to diagnosticate what she was telling him. With a deep breath, she let it tumble from her lips. "Illidan inadvertently infused me with the night elves' curse of immortality and as my soul is fractured, I am also left barren. I can have no more children." Her throat burned and the tears flowed freely. She had needed to get everything out in the open, and it had to be done quickly for fear she would not maintain her nerve. Not that it eased the pain. "I am sorry," she whimpered, unable to look at him.

 

**_Music: FAIRYTALES by Serenity_ **

The silence in the room was deafening. Then, Khadgar spoke. "Illidan has done this!" The suppressed anger in his voice made her look up.

"If he didn't, though Khadgar, I would not be here - and neither would our son."

His eyes blazed. Then she saw it. The animosity towards Illidan which she had sensed in his thoughts, was still raging. But why? Illidan had become his friend, a trusted ally. The change in Khadgar irked her at that moment. "Would you rather he hadn't?" she asked, still fighting the tremor in her voice.

The Archmage held her gaze. She tried to reach into his mind, for he seemed unwilling to offer any verbal communication. "Stop it!" he said, sharp. "Stay out of my head Sarah. It is off limits." He turned and strode down the hall to his study where he closed the door, firmly.

She stood, stunned. Who was this man? Cold, calculating and angry. And she still had not explained everything. He had not heard about Camnath and that he was key to helping with the Void. Hurting though she was, she would not be silenced so harshly. And not by the man who she had willingly changed her life to be with. Fists clenched, she stormed to his study and without stopping she threw the door open.

He stood behind his desk, rifling through the chaos of documents on its surface. His steel eyes flashed at her. "Don't you knock anymore?" he said coldly before continuing searching his desk for something, or perhaps nothing.

She ignored his comment. "What is  _wrong_ with you?" she demanded. "I have just revealed some truly painful facts about myself and you dismiss them as if they are of no importance! Where is your compassion? Where is your understanding?"

"I do not have time for such luxury, Sarah."

" _Luxury_?" she screamed.

"I am trying to fathom how to save this world from complete annihilation can  _you_ not understand  _that_?" He swept around from the desk to stand in front of her. She inched back, his stature strangely intimidating. "You have no concept of what we are facing. This enemy will wipe out everything we know, our homes, our cities, our hopes, our lives. Perhaps you  _immortals_ will be safe..."She slapped him. He barely flinched but his eyes remained hard. 

"Don't you dare be so condescending to me," she said in a hoarse whisper. Clearing her throat she soldiered on with the information she had. "Remember Tiene? The blood elf demon hunter?" Khadgar gave the briefest of nods. "Well, her husband's spirit has for some reason taken up residence in Drew. Camnath is his name, and he has told me that I can help in this coming war, but first I have to find Tiene's spirit who is also hitching a ride with someone else."

Khadgar's stern posture relaxed slightly. "To what end?" he asked.

Sarah had hoped he wouldn't ask that. "Truthfully, I do not know. But Camnath said they will be instrumental in this battle and I need Illidan to help..."

Khadgar turned from her with a grunt. For some reason, he had a real grudge against the demon hunter.

"Whatever your gripe is with Illidan, whether you like it or not, he was prophesied to be the one who would turn the tables on the Void."

"Yet he has to always include  _you_!" the Archmage shouted. She glanced down for a moment as she saw his fists clench. She had never seen him so agitated. "I am trying my best to ensure you and Ocel are safe, as well as trying to work out how to protect everyone else..."

"Then why won't you accept that we can help?" she intervened. "Are we stealing your thunder or something, Khadgar? I thought we were all in this  _together_ , all of us fighting for the love of Azeroth."

" _We_  can help –  _we_  are all in this. It's always been  _we,_  where he is concerned. Ever since you came here, it's been about  _him_. From the moment you stood in Varian's court, it's been about  _him_. You were willing to sacrifice yourself - for  _him!_ "

"What?" she staggered back in disbelief. This was a jealousy issue? No, there was more to it, he was using this a guise. "Are you  _listening_  to yourself? This is insane! You know fine that it was not about the man himself but about righting a terrible wrong which ended up helping save us from the Burning Legion."

"Which again, the two of you had to be at the head of the crusade!"

"Oh, for  _fuck's sake_! Are you and your little group of Six feeling so inadequate that you have invented some sort of conspiracy? Are you really that concerned that just maybe he  _is_  more powerful than all of you put together?"

His eyes darkened. "With you, his little  _pet_  beside him, perhaps?" He turned his back on her.

His words stung but she responded as best she could, battling with her anguish. "By Elune, you can be a real prick at times, can't you? I was an unfortunate result of circumstance Khadgar, one which you seemed happy enough to have back for a while. But I have learned I can be useful now in the forthcoming fight. So whether you like or not, I intend to be there."

The sound of Ocel crying drifted along the hall. His eyes turned to the door and then briefly made contact with hers before he resumed looking through his desk. "Your son needs you," he said over his shoulder.

And there was the killer of all strikes.  _Your son_ , he'd said. Not  _our son_. She could not help but respond, even though she struggled hard to fight back the tears. "Well, I certainly hope he grows up better than his obstinate father." He faced her, annoyance still gripping his features. She turned and left, but she heard him slam something very heavy on the desk surface as she closed the door behind her.


	23. Inner Conflicts

In the Chamber of Air, five members of the Council of Six were deep in concentration trying to arrive at some solution of how to defeat the Void. They had been hard at work since the unfortunate incident with the demon hunter had taken place.

Through a shimmering portal, Karlain was seen in his alchemist lab, busying himself in his studies. He was trying to deduce the most effective defence against shadow magic, if all else they knew, failed. The deep creases on his forehead and look of utter frustration in his eyes suggested his level of success was impotent.

Kalecgos was standing over an ancient manuscript, his magic transposing the almost illegible script into a hologram, displaying it in mid-air.  Modera and Ansirem both recrafted the letters and symbols to make them readable before translating them. The results were not encouraging.

Vargoth sat in a plush armchair pouring over a large journal about Draenor. Floating, to his side was another smaller book, in which he transferred some text from the larger one. His companion the elemental Glacius, oscillating between its aqueous and fuliginous forms, remained close by. Its soothing, bubbling, watery sounds aiding Vargoth to focus on his work.

Khadgar arrived in the Chamber of Air, his mood dark, troubled. Modera looked up from her translations on hearing him enter through a portal. Her eyes flicked to Kalecgos and Ansirem, her tight lips and narrowed eyes conveying her thoughts. Kalecgos sighed heavily as the female mage quickly moved towards their leader.

Khadgar crossed the room and stood at one of the windows, his eyes fixed on nothing but the swirling elemental ward that rotated around the chamber's outer wall. Modera moved to his right. She silently studied the side of his face. His jaw was taut, lips thinned and his brow pinched in the centre, a clear indication that his visit home had not gone well.

It took all she had not to revel in the fact that her ruminations about the Earth woman's detrimental effect on the man's state of mind were now confirmed. Here stood a brilliant man; a great leader whose focus, years of devotion, study and learning,  were being cast to the four elements, all because of ...  _her! Sarah!_

How she wished the woman had never returned. The sealing of that rift should have been the end of her. But of course, the meddling demon hunter's bride had to ruin things by gifting her passage back to Azeroth.

Clearing her throat, the Archmage Modera turned her eyes to the secretive ward which captivated Khadgar's attention. "I take it she was of no help then?"

Khadgar did not move, nor did he even acknowledge he had been spoken to. He merely stood, hands clasped behind his back, eyes staring out the window. His face wore a melancholy veil.

Modera was not remotely discouraged. "It is as I thought then," she said haughtily. "She and that abomination of an elf are well suited." She turned to move back to the table where Kalecgos and Anrisem continued with their work.

"Modera," Khadgar said. He did not move, simply maintained his vigil of the elements.

"Yes?" she said sweeping back, chin held high, a hint of a smile on her lips.

He kept his voice low, but the menacing intonation was undeniable. "If you ever utter such an accusation again, I will personally cast you out of the Citadel."

 

 

 

The smile faltered and her breath caught in her throat. Instantly flustered, she tried to talk her way out of the trouble she had landed herself in. "My apologies, Khadgar, I was not implying that they..."

He turned to face her. The expression which met her was austere and unforgiving. "Careful Modera. You are not above reproach."

She bowed her head and returned, somewhat subdued, to the table where her colleagues worked on deciphering the manuscripts. The leader of the Kirin Tor watched as she retook her place and resumed her work. He grunted, turning back to the window, just as Modera glanced up at him through her inconceivably long lashes, which were a little moist following her reprimand. She had only been concerned for his welfare and subsequently that of the Kirin Tor and the pending war with the Void.

"You should learn to keep your mouth closed," Kalecgos whispered to her.

Modera shot him an acicular look. "I only speak the truth," she hissed.

" _Your_ version of it only, Modera."

"Oh typical of you to take his side, you and Jaina were no better. Well, look what happened to her!"

Kalecgos slammed his fist on the table. The disturbance caused the others to stare, all except for Karlain who still hid in his alchemy lab and Khadgar, who appeared to be oblivious. "And I would not change a thing," Kalecgos said quietly, but firmly. "If we die in this war, then at least I will die knowing I have loved someone other than myself and that they loved me. You are but an ice queen, Modera, and you will die as unhappily as you have lived."

**_Music: Slør by Eivør Pálsdóttir_**     

Her eyes flitted up towards Khadgar again. His head was inclined. Had he overheard that exchange she wondered? She lowered her head and started rifling through some of the reference documents on the table. She took a deep breath. "Let us continue," she said. With tempers cooled, the colleagues resumed their translations and studies without further ado.

The leader of the Kirin Tor continued staring out the window. He was mulling over all Sarah had told him. He felt utterly despondent as he recalled his harsh and abrupt manner when she poured out her heart to him. He had gone home, following Illidan's comment about her being an integral player in the decimation of the Void but he had not expected to hear what she'd told him.

Had he perhaps hoped for her to supply the answers which seemed to elude him and his Council? Possibly, although he really wanted her to have no part in this coming war. He had wanted her safely tucked away with their son. He closed his eyes. His heart contracted as he remembered saying "Your  _son needs you."_ The look in her eyes as he'd said that so dismissively was killing him.

The cold hard truth, however, was that time was against them in so many ways. Time to work out how to defend against the Void, time running out before the battle commenced and time disappearing for them to try and right any wrongs before complete annihilation robbed them from ever doing so. He took a deep breath then turned and joined his colleagues in trying to find out the answers they needed.

It was late when they decided to call it a night. They had all poured over scrolls, manuscripts, volumes, in a desperate search for the tactics required to end this looming threat. 

Karlain had fallen asleep in his lab, vials and beakers littering the surfaces in unsuccessful experiments.

Glacius had dwindled to a mere puddle on the floor beside the armchair Vargoth had spent hours absorbing the layout of Draenor and the likely approach the Void would adopt. His deliberations had formed the opinion that the Void would make its way to the Dark Portal, having ripped most of Draenor apart and in so doing, it would invade Azeroth next. The Council agreed the Void must be stopped at all costs from passing through the portal.

Something Illidan had said when he and Khadgar first visited Galurk and San'ti, gnawed at the leader's mind. Why was the Void attacking Draenor? 

After more debate, the hypothesis arrived at was that Outland, the broken remains of Draenor following the devastating efforts of Ner'zhul opening too many portals on the orc planet, was another target. The former Elder Shaman and later Lich King had literally pulled Draenor apart, creating Outland. Only the alternate time portals allowed the two planets to co-exist. In wiping out Draenor, the Void would also annihilate Outland. The numbers of lives that would be lost was unimaginable.

With two planets destroyed in one sweep, the Void would then move onto a third; that being Azeroth. With heavy hearts, the council retired for the evening.

Khadgar stood once more, staring through the whirling ward, his mind creating the images of some of the lands surrounding Dalaran and beyond. He visualised their beauty and serenity, their different climates and races. Some were still in the throes of recovery from the Legion attacks.  He closed his eyes. All the people's hard work - for what?

"Khadgar," the unusually timid voice of Modera pulled him from his reverie.

He turned to face her, arms crossed, his face still holding remnants of lost thoughts. He sighed heavily. "What is it Modera? You should go rest."

The mage lowered her head as if drumming up courage before she spoke. She lifted her eyes to his. "About earlier, I'm sorry..."

Khadgar could not be bothered with dredging up their earlier conflict. Running his hand through his tousled mop, he then waved a dismissive hand at her. "Enough, Modera! Go to bed."

Dejected, she turned and made her way to the portal that would take her to the lower chambers of the citadel. Before she stepped through, however, she heard the unmistakable whoosh and pop of another portal behind her. When she turned, the leader of the Kirin Tor was nowhere to be found.

**_Music: INNOCENTS by Miriam Stockley_**  

 

He stood, watching her through the door of their room, as she tossed and turned in a fitful sleep. He wanted to go to her, to soothe her, apologise, but he couldn't seem to cross the threshold.

He was sorely tempted to cast a ward around the house, preventing her from leaving and trying anything rash. He would never forgive himself though if, in the days to come, the Void managed to break through and she was unable to escape with Ocel. She would be like a sacrificial lamb just waiting for the end. He could not do that to her, to their son.

He glanced at the door of Ocel's room. Quietly, he made his way along the hall and into the nursery. Moonlight filtered through the fine drapes and gently reached over the little boy coating him in a soft veil of silver luminescence. Ocel lay still, his little chest rising and falling rhythmically, lost in the dreamland of innocents.

Khadgar smiled. Here his legacy slept before him, oblivious to the dangers ahead. He approached the sleeping babe softly, careful not to stand on the one creaky floorboard which for some reason decided to be close to the crib. He managed to avoid the culprit and stood with his hands resting on the sides of Ocel's sanctuary, watching the little one slumber.

His heart swelled at the sight of the boy's soft cheeks, the twitching dimples at the corners of his mouth. His infant mind had him possibly soaring on the back of a gryphon or riding the waves with dolphins over the great sea. Khadgar laughed very softly. Who knew what babes could dream? Their concept of the world would be so black and white, all new and wondrous. 

He reached down to stroke his cheek. Ocel cooed in his sleep, his little arms flailing once before he settled again. Unbidden tears came to Khadgar's eyes. He had all he desired in this house. A woman who he still loved fiercely, a son who he wanted to watch grow up, play ball with, take him fishing and riding - but it could all be taken from him soon enough.

The feeling of helplessness was crushing. He should know how to fight this Void. He was the leader of the Kirin Tor! He had, over the years absorbed probably more knowledge than a man three times his age would ordinarily have managed. He was well versed in magic, history, the peoples of Azeroth, Draenor, Outland, Pandaria and the Broken Isles. He was a mathematician, a philosopher, a scientist, all to varying degrees, but knowledgeable nonetheless. So why was it he could not uncover the means required to defend against this looming threat?

He quashed a sob. Leaning closer, he whispered to Ocel. "You are my pride and joy and I love you with all my heart. I pray Elune blesses and keeps you safe."

He had to take a few deep breaths before he continued. "Should I not see you again, know this, you have a wonderful mother who will love you enough for the both of us. I hope you get to ride on those gryphons or dolphins, my son. Be strong, be kind and just. And love with all of your heart."

With the gentlest of kisses on the sleeping babe's head, Khadgar turned and left the nursery, the sound of his breaking heart pounding in his ears.


	24. Hello Again

 

 

Try as she might, Bernie just could not sleep. She lay, eyes shut, willing sleep to take her but it remained elusive. Going over all she had gleaned from the Lord of demon hunters and the orcs, Galurk and San'ti plus the extra information which Waquro supplied, kept her mind busy and sleep unattainable. 

 Although some of what she'd heard was mere supposition, it somehow made sense and had pieced together some of the strange and unsettling pieces of this Azerothian jigsaw. With a heavy sigh, she opened her eyes and glanced over to where Mel and Mick lay. Both seemed to have found sleep easily enough and the erratic though unobtrusive snores of the two men were almost all that could be heard other than the night time sounds of the swamp.

Marginally cooler than it was during the day, Bernie still found the atmosphere of the swamp overbearing. She needed to get outside. Slowly she sat up and waited until her eyes adjusted to the murk of their large accommodation. 

 A faint glow from the dying embers of the fire allowed enough light for her to manoeuvre her way out of the building without stepping on anyone. The orcs were close together in one section, the soft hides they slept upon arranged in a square, allowing them to store their weaponry in the centre within easy reach if required. She tip-toed past, not wanting to wake anyone. She froze as Hagus broke wind rather loudly. In response, Belmar supplied the echo. Orcs were such smelly creatures at the best of times, but this was verging on caustic. She pinched her nose, thankful their rear ends had not been facing the fire or else the Tauren's thick fur may have ended up seriously singed. 

 A sudden desperate need to laugh threatened to overcome her but she managed to suppress it by clapping her other hand over her mouth. She shuffled around the huge figure of Waquro, who seemed even bigger lying down than he was standing. With a final glance around the hut, she wondered if the demon hunters had returned home for they were not inside.

She swept the hides open that covered the entrance and with relief, stepped out into the warm, humid night air. Sounds of the swamp creatures still set her teeth on edge, making her feel vulnerable outside the hut. 

Staying in the shadows of its walls, she stole her way around it, checking for any sign of the Illidari. Nothing. She was disappointed. They were fascinating individuals, mesmerizing, powerful, mysterious and damn sexy in a dark, demonic way. She had chastised herself for thinking so once she discovered, that the female lieutenant was Illidan's wife. 

The two Illidari were obviously devoted to each other. She had watched, with a hint of envy, at the respect, consideration and small shows of affection which passed between them during the revelations about the Void. Such tenderness had not been what she had expected of these individuals, particularly not where Illidan Stormrage was concerned. But she had bore witness to the man within the demon, as well as a strong leader who was awarded enviable loyalty from his Illidari. She could not help but wonder what he and Arcaena would have been like in their elven forms, untainted by the fel. She imagined they would be beautiful.

"Is it love, or lust?" A voice in the dark asked. Bernie spun around, her eyes wide trying to locate the source of the voice. "Up here," it said. She glanced to the roof of the hut. There was Arcaena, crouched like a gargoyle, her head tilting side to side like a predator watching its prey. Bernie gasped, a little wary of the female, but not unduly uncomfortable in her presence.

"S-sorry?" she asked.

"Your desire for Drew," Arcaena replied.

Bernie felt herself blush. The question was most personal and unexpected. For a few moments, she was speechless, then clearing her throat, she posed a question of her own. "How do you  _know_  which one it is?" she asked.

Arcaena chortled, shifted and glided down to stand in front of the redhead. "Well, does he fill your thoughts every day and night?" she asked.

It was very odd having a stranger asking her such questions but, more bizarrely, a relief to have a chance to talk about her feelings. "Yes," she whispered. "But, the thoughts are mainly of, erm... when we..." She lowered her head, suddenly coy.

Arcaena's elven laughter was warm and friendly. "Ahh, you have mated?"

With hand clasped to breast, it was Bernie's turn to laugh. A little embarrassed still, she replied. "Mated sounds so -  _businesslike_."

The demon hunter smiled and nodded agreement. "Made love, then," she said, watching the redhead blush even more at her words. Bernie glanced around the settlement, feeling all warm and fuzzy as the images of her and Drew flitted through her mind again. "Yes," she replied beatifically. "But, I'm afraid he thinks it was all a ploy to get us here."

Arcaena walked around her, within touching distance. She stopped when she was directly in front of her. "And  _was_ it? A ploy?" Again, her head tilted in that curious way she possessed.

"No! I was attracted to him the moment I saw him before I found out that he had actually been here. I was stupid though."

"How so?"

"I  _did_ end up hoping that he might lead us here. I suppose in a way, I did trick him, but that was not my initial intention. I care about him." She sighed, "A lot!"

Arcaena lowered her head and resumed her circling of Bernie. She did a few circuits before she spoke again. "Tiene became a good friend of mine," she said, her voice betraying a deep sadness. "I remember when she joined us at the Black Temple. She was desperate to exact revenge on the Burning Legion for all those she had lost, including her husband whom she loved fiercely and unconditionally. Her story is long and full of astounding beauty, as well as crippling tragedy." Arcaena paused, the stirring memories causing her to catch her breath. "She also thought a lot of Drew. The two became close when he was last here..." She noted a change in Bernie at the mention of such affection. She laid a consoling hand on the redhead's arm. "Do not misunderstand, Bernie. In him, she saw echoes of her husband, Camnath. She found comfort, an easing of some of the pain she had borne for years."

Bernie nodded. She knew she had no right to be jealous of someone who had been involved with Drew prior to her meeting him. Yet, oddly, a little seed of envy lay rooted deep within. The Illidari bride stopped in front of her again. "I believe Tiene specifically chose you, so Drew would find the kind of happiness she had shared with her husband. I think she has chosen wisely."

Bernie smirked. "How would you know, Arcaena, you only met me a few hours ago."

"By the way you speak his name, the look in your eyes when he is mentioned. All subtle signs that many would not pick up on. But, I, like Tiene, and  _you_  too, are all hopeless romantics. When we feel such emotion, is it a light which burns brightly and endures all attempts at snuffing it out."

Bernie took a deep breath. She liked what she heard, immensely. There was only one dark cloud on the horizon. "I do not think he feels the same though," she said, her tone melancholy.

 

**_Music: THE SEERESS PROPHECY (DAYDREAMING) by Achillea_ **

 

 

The demon hunter adopted a lop-sided smile, then before Bernie could react, she found herself lifted into the air, shooting up through the canopy of the swamp. Her eyes were wide, panic filling her every pore. Arcaena laughed playfully. "Worry not Bernie, I will not drop you."

"Wh - what are you doing?" the redhead was still frightened. The speed with which the demon hunter moved had caused her stomach to lurch and now here she was suspended about seventy feet in the air, a deadly swamp below and a star loaded sky above.

"We are going to find out if your concern is founded, or not."

" _What_?" A mixture of dread and euphoria blended into an indescribable cocktail of emotions.

With another laugh, Arcaena soared over the swamp, changing course slightly and heading west. Bernie's knuckles were white as she clung to the female Illidari's arm, careful not to be slapped by the demonhide wings or hinder them from doing their job of carrying them overland. After a few minutes, with the wind in her hair and the oppressive heat of the swamp behind them, she started to relax. Maintaining a firm hold, she smiled as she embraced the sensation of flying through the Azerothian skies.

"Stormwind is a large city though is it not? How will we find him?" she asked, trying to shield her mouth so the rushing air did not make her choke.

Arcaena turned her head towards her. "It is yes, but he is just outside. He is staying with Erik and Gwen." She could tell by Bernie's face that meant nothing to her. "They are friends, and I suspected that's where Drew was staying, so I checked earlier." It seemed the demon hunter had thought it all through.

In a matter of minutes, Bernie saw the cold grey stone of Deadwind Pass below and the spires of Karazhan twinkling in the moonlight. Veering off slightly they then crossed over Darkshire, heading towards the Three Corners before Redridge Mountains and Lakeshire. 

 She marvelled at how much larger the lands were in relation to the game. The rolling hills, mountains and forests were majestic even in the moonlight. Smells of pine, and what she assumed was the many herbs indigenous to the area, permeated the air and rode beside them on the warm draughts. They flew overland with ease and grace. 

Occasionally Arcaena tightened her grip on Bernie and rolled, pulling her wings in then snapping them open again. The redhead at first squealed in fright, then her laughter trailed over the night sky as she revelled in the thrill of riding the currents. She was completely caught up in the excitement of flying but when they started the descent to a small cottage on the outskirts of Stormwind, her nerves kicked in again.

Arcaena glided down to land with ostentatious flair and gently released her passenger. They were next to a lone tree on a hillside which overlooked a small waterfall to the north and plush meadows to the east and south. Below, on the winding path, a little white cottage nestled in a dip in between the two hills. A faint plume of smoke was pulled from its chimney and carried on the spring breeze before melting into the night sky. 

One of its windows had the soft glow of candlelight, flickering, rippling. Arcaena faced Bernie. "Wait here," she said. "I told him I would be bringing him a surprise."

Bernie, shocked, reached out and caught Arcaena's arm. "Wait! You  _planned_  all this already? When did you decide to do this?"

Arcaena flashed her lop-sided smile. "When Illidan took your arm and we found out about Tiene. And when you enquired about Drew. I excused myself for a little while as you all discussed things in the hut."

The redhead stared in disbelief. "Do you make it a habit of matching people?" Bernie smiled, nerves tugging the corners of her mouth.

The demon hunter's smile faded slightly. Her voice, although soft, held a tremor of uncertainty. "I do not know what the future holds for any of us Bernie, or how many will survive this fight with the Void. Although my husband has been prophesied as having a major role in this war, we still do not understand in what capacity. Therefore, I want everyone to have the chance of a little happiness at least. And..." she said, her cloth covered eyes turning to the cottage, "... the young man down there, deserves to be happy, as do you."

Bernie's breath caught in her throat. The sentiment was beautiful even in the wake of its potentially dark outcome. She simply nodded as Arcaena flew down to the cottage. 

Gingerly, she stepped behind the tree, keeping a keen eye on the demon hunter. Arcaena moved to the back of the cottage. Light spilt onto the ground where she stood - a window opened. Bernie couldn't help but smile. It was almost cloak and dagger, like errant teenagers sneaking out in the middle of the night for a frowned upon assignation. 

Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Drew emerge from the window. Even from her location, she could see he wore his shirt open, his toned midriff on display - her heart beat a little faster again. "Please, please do not send me away," she whispered to herself. "Just hear me out,  _please_!"

She continued watching with baited breath. For some reason, Arcaena walked instead of flew up the hill with Drew. Perhaps she was telling him what the "surprise" was? A moment's panic set in as she visualised him turning abruptly and heading back down the hill at the news. 

As he neared, she felt herself starting to tremble. She flattened her back against the tree trunk, her heart beating so loudly now, she could literally hear it. Looking down at her chest she swore she could even see it pounding under her T-shirt. Their conversation drifted up the incline on the night air.

"What are you up to, Arcaena?" Drew asked his tone light, friendly.

"I told you - a surprise," the demon hunter replied.

"But why out here?" He laughed. It was plain that he and Arcaena got on well. 

"Nowhere better," Arcaena replied. "It's a lovely, warm, starry night." Their feet scuffed the ground in front of the tree as they drew to a halt.

"What has that to..."

This was her cue. She took a deep breath then slowly emerged from behind the trunk. "Hello again," she said.

Drew did a double-take when he heard her voice. He locked eyes with her, his mouth open in mid-sentence. He turned back to Arcaena, who stood with her usual lop-sided grin, flitting her head side to side as if she was oblivious to the awkward moment in front of her. 

"Umm..." Drew managed, before closing his mouth.

Then Arcaena feigned surprise. "Oh! Begging your pardon. I will be in Stormwind for about an hour, then I will come back for you," she directed at Bernie. Silence. She nudged Drew closer to the redhead. "Be nice!" she whispered to him, then in a flash, she kicked off and soared away.

Drew's eyes surveyed the ground in front of his feet. With hands on hips, he remained quiet for a few moments, lightly shaking his head.

"Drew?" Bernie's nervous voice broke the quiet spring night.

With gaze still fixed on the ground, Drew finally answered. "Hi." Arcaena's master plan became clear. He looked up, his eyes meeting Bernie's again. "She's something else, isn't she?" he said with a nod of his head in the direction Arcaena had flown.

"Yes, she is." Bernie replied nervously. She couldn't bear any awkward silences between them, so she decided to just say what she needed to and have done with it. He seemed affable enough right now so perhaps it was best to strike while the iron was hot. "I'm sorry. I know you think I used you, but it wasn't like that I swear, at least not to begin with..." She winced at her poor choice of words when she saw his jaw tighten. "I mean -  _at all_! It wasn't like that at all. Well...maybe a little...Oh  _god_!" 

She slumped her shoulder against the tree. Inwardly she was kicking herself. Normally she was confident enough to speak her mind and explain things coherently, but somehow this was proving too much. It was a constant dance of words, two forward and three back. She exhaled loudly, irritated by her ineptitude. "I really like you, Drew, that was never in doubt. Even had you never been here, or played Warcraft, I would have  _still_ liked you. There, I've said it, now make what you want of it." 

She cast her eyes to the ground, affording small glimpses at him from under her lashes and strands of hair that floated on the breeze. She held her breath as she waited for some sort of response from him. Of all the things she imagined he might say, what he eventually uttered was not one of them.

"I gave your note to a panther," he said.

Her head snapped up. Had she heard him right? His eyes were still on her. A light breeze rippled his shirt, opening it more, displaying his toned body. She heard herself groan, and quickly shifted a little further behind the tree, embarrassed by her involuntary vocal admiration of his physique. "A  _panther_?" she asked, not daring to look at his body again, but desperately wanting to.

She thought he was holding back a snicker as he replied, "Yes. Rishuul is her name. She belongs to a hunter I know."

" _That_  note?" Bernie asked, her brow pinched. Why was she embarrassed about this?  _It's not as if a panther can read. Or_ can they _, here in Azeroth?_  she wondered. She inwardly cringed.

"Yes, unless you tied another one to me which I haven't found yet," Drew replied. His voice held a little laughter still. 

Her lips twitched. "Wh - why? Why did you do that?" She peeked around the tree again, watching him closely.

"We have something in common Bernie. Allegedly, we are both a part of what's going on in Azeroth. So, I gave your note to the panther - to erm ...sniff you out." He quickly turned his head away. She was uncertain whether she saw the hint of a grin or a grimace. 

Staring back up at the sky she tried to work out what he was doing. Was he was making fun of her? Perhaps that was good. It eased the tension. Didn't it? Or, was it sarcasm? She slowly inched round the trunk, but when she looked, he wasn't there anymore. She stepped forward, craning her neck further round.

"Rishuul didn't know what to make of it either," he said, causing her to jump. He'd snuck around the other side.

She slammed herself against the tree trunk again but turned her head towards him.  Hands in jean pockets, he stood mere inches from her, staring at her. Try as she might, she could not stop her eyes sliding down his body. The night breeze seemed to know what she craved and aided her view by catching his shirt and rippling it out from his physique. She lowered her eyes, focusing on her feet.

Her breathing quickened as he came to stand in front of her. Placing one hand against the trunk close to her head he leaned in.  She trembled as his breath caressed her cheek. "The problem is Bernie, I'm not sure whether you are telling me the truth or just spinning another yarn," he said. There was no trace of humour in his voice anymore. She lifted her eyes to meet his - they were dark, accusing. Moments later he pushed back and turned away from her, both hands firmly in his pockets again.

Disappointment flooded her. She had so hoped his earlier mirth was an indication he did not think badly of her. Now, she just wasn't sure.  "It was never a yarn," she said, a tad pathetically. "I swear it. Please Drew, hear me out." 

 ** _Music: FOREVER MY HEART Miriam Stockley_**  

He didn't move other than tilt his head and look up at the sky. Gingerly, she moved forward and stepped up beside him, chancing a sideways glance. Words screamed through her head at a hundred miles an hour prompting her what to say. The odd one shouted louder than its predecessor, then a lull until another made itself prominent. 

The next one fell, unbidden, from her lips. "Tiene," she said. Seeing his body tense from the corner of her eye, she quickly carried on. "I'm not sure how long she has been inside me, but I know it was before I met you. I've been having strange dreams for weeks, some were tranquil and beautiful, others harrowing and upsetting, but always very vivid. From my understanding, she was very fond of you, Drew. You comforted her."

She waited, hoping he would respond. He remained rigid, staring at the night sky. When nothing seemed forthcoming, she sighed heavily, then turned and moved back to the tree. She slumped down. All she could do now was hope the time passed quickly so Arcaena would come back for her, or perhaps the demon hunter wasn't that far away, could see things were not going well and come back earlier than planned. 

One thing was certain, Drew wasn't for trusting her. Not that she could blame him, she supposed. That stupid note!! Then there was the portal in the flat. Mick's taunting words didn't help either. But, if she had it all to do again, she wouldn't change a thing -  _well,_ maybe the note - but she wouldn't want to lose the time she had spent with Drew. 

A painful chest spasm gripped her. So this was love? It wasn't at all what she had romanticised it to be. Unrequited, for one thing, had not been part of her fantasy. And falling too quick as well was definitely a fools game.  _Better to be cold, unfeeling and distant_ , she thought. Tiene had been wrong about her, and her hopes for Drew to be happy with Bernie were way off the mark.

The silence was unexpectedly broken. "Her husband resides in  _me_ ," Drew said. "His name is..."

"Camnath. I know," Bernie finished. She glanced up as Drew turned to face her. Perhaps it was the soft moonlight, but he appeared immeasurably sad. She looked to the skies as a shooting star passed overhead. Wistfully, she made her wish but doubted it was worth the effort. Slowly, he walked over and sat down beside her, leaning against the tree. Her eyes remained fixed on the skies.

He inhaled deeply. "Tiene's story is very sad, " he said softly. "She..." He looked at her.

It was not what Bernie wanted to hear right now. "Please don't, I do not want to know. Not tonight anyway. I heard from Arcaena that she went through a lot of pain, but I do not want to listen to specifics. I couldn't bear it." Her voice betrayed her own sadness.

Scuffing a bit dry earth underfoot, Drew brought his knees up and fastened his hands round them. Leaning his head back against the trunk, he looked skyward again. "Fair enough," he replied.

An agonising silence stretched out between them. Eventually, Bernie got up and paced back and forth, looking towards Stormwind. This had been a pointless exercise. Drew would never think she was genuine. 

"Are you keen to leave now?" he asked, noting her agitation.

She flitted her eyes in his direction then resumed her vigil of the sky above the great Alliance city. "Well, you're not exactly riveting company."

"Considering the circumstances I think I'm doing pretty well. It's not every day I get stabbed in the back." His foot kicked at the dry dirt.

She was tired of always being a sullen victim and blamed for every mistake of her heart. Bernie spun round. "I  _told_ you I didn't use you. But you know, now I think of it, perhaps  _you_ are a user yourself."

Drew's eyes widened. "And how do you arrive at that conclusion?"

"Let me see," she said, her voice hardening just a shade. "That night I met you and you started to tell me about this place, how you came to be here, one thing came across very clearly. Your feelings for Sarah..." 

Drew flinched, but Bernie carried on, ignoring his visible discomfort. "You used her in a way, did you not, to get here too? Following her through like some infatuated little boy? Then you see Tiene.  A substitute perhaps for the one whose heart belonged to someone else? You are a hypocrite, Drew. You sit there, licking your wounds, the injured little puppy, but you are far from innocent yourself."

He pushed himself up from the ground. Dusting himself down, he moved towards her. She stepped back. "It wasn't like that," he said, shaking his head.

"No,  _of course_  not," she responded. "Never is with guys. I made a mistake, I admit, but it was not done through malice or as a means to an end. However, here's the real twist. Your dalliance with the demon hunter has somehow brought me here - she 'lives' in me, she  _chose_ me. Have you considered the possibility that is was  _she_ and her husband who drove us together and ultimately brought me here too?" He stepped nearer. Again she moved back. "Maybe you're right. Maybe I  _don't_ feel anything for you at all, I am merely a puppet, a useful commodity. You didn't complain at the time though, as I remember."

His eyes lowered. Her words hit a few nerves.

She sighed heavily. "I don't know Drew, maybe we  _are_ just pawns, driven by two lovers within us who ache to feel what it is like to touch again, to love once more. Perhaps we all get used somehow - and foolishly mistake it for something else." At that, her voice cracked. 

She turned away and leaned back up against the trunk. She sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand before searching the skies again through moist eyes.

Once more, his voice directly beside her caused her to flinch. "Bernie, I'm sorry. I didn't think. I never meant to hurt or use  _anyone_."

She huffed and continued searching the sky for her transport back to Stonard. He stepped around her. Feeling miserable, she tried to avoid his gaze, lowering her head.

His voice was softer.  _"_ I've never looked at my actions the way you perceive them, but now you've put it forth - very astutely, I might add -" A hint of atonement rang in his voice. "I dare say I  _am_  guilty."  He ducked down, trying to see her face behind the red strands that floated across her face in the breeze. He reached out and gently lifted her chin. His brows pinched as he saw a solitary tear trace down her cheek. He wiped it away gently. Eventually, she lifted her eyes to his. He sighed. "Remove that ring," he said, tapping the small piece of metal in her lip, with his thumb.

"No," she said, shaking her head.

"Please." He stepped nearer.

"Why?" There was nowhere for her to go, her back was hard up against the tree now.

With a slight upturn of his lip, he replied. "Because it scratches me when I kiss you."

 

 

Her breath hitched. Had he forgiven her? His smile broadened as his thumb stroked her chin.

A small piece of jewellery made an inconspicuous sound as it bounced off the dry dirt and vanished under dancing grasses. Then gentle sighs were carried on the breeze of an Azerothian spring evening.


	25. The Dark Portal

 

Eighteen hours, thirty-four minutes and twenty seconds had passed since Khadgar had left their home. Not that she was keeping tabs or anything. He had after all, in the past, been away from home longer, but these hours, these minutes and these seconds seemed to have dragged out beyond any time he had been gone previously. Furthermore, until yesterday, he had never left home in such a foul mood. His exit from their home had been deathly silent. He had not said goodbye, nor kissed her, nor waved. He had simply left.

She tried to carry on as if all was normal, but in her heart, she knew it was far from it. Nothing could ever hope to be normal again. He had accepted her demonic tattoos, and her unusual gifts from the naaru months before, easily enough. 

These new conditions, however, were obviously not negotiable. Was she  _so_ repulsive to him? Barren and immortal - fruitless with longevity, a non-productive with continual youth. And just for good measure, her espionage of his mind, a spy in his midst. If he had rejected her completely, as it surely felt he had, she could not even return home to Earth as a way of comfort or escape. She was stuck here. 

She guessed the fairytale had to end sometime. But what a horrid way for it to happen. Left to bring their son up in a land doomed to destruction, and cast aside by her lover, her son's father, because she had acquired some traits she had not wanted, nor even been aware she possessed until recently. There was, however, no option but to survive, for the sake of her son at least. Now she needed to take action to ensure his safety.

Arriving at Lukha's door, she could not help but feel she was asking a lot of the young draenei. Lukha however, had been more than happy to help with Ocel. Umrii fussed over him also and the infant himself seemed perfectly happy. Lhadral took Sarah through and out to the garden where Lukha loved to have all her flowers. The compact area was awash with colour and the most beautiful fragrances filled the air. There, he ushered Sarah to take a seat in the small summer house. "It is good to see you again, Sarah," he said, his soft voice always so calming.

"And you Lhadral. Much hunting done while you have been here?" She jumped a little as a throaty yawn came from behind her. Rishuul padded around the latticed structure and in through the door. She made her way straight to Sarah, nuzzling her big head along Sarah's thigh. The feline settled at her feet, contentedly.

Lhadral smiled. "Not particularly. I spent most my time making sure Drew did not get skewered by an over-excitable Erik."

At that, both laughed. Poor Erik, people did like to exaggerate and make fun of his hunting skills. Truth was, he was a very good hunter and an experienced fighter when his skills were so required. "So, you have met Drew at last," Sarah said still petting Rishuul's head.

"Yes. He is a good man, Sarah, and most concerned for you."

Sarah smiled. "Yes, he has been a great friend over the years. I miss him when he's not here." Her voice trailed off, heavy with sadness. Lhadral placed a consoling hand on hers. The act caused a tear to escape. She quickly brushed it away and sat straight attempting to appear as if nothing was upsetting her.

The hunter, with his conciliatory and understanding manner, did not pursue the matter. Instead, he steered the conversation in the direction which she had hoped he would. "Drew told me about the spirit within him, Camnath, and that there is another you seek, called Tiene?"

Sarah nodded. She was relieved Drew had opened up about the strange phenomena which involved them. Lhadral had been a good choice for him to place his trust. The hunter assured her he would help, along with Erik, Gwen and a worgen warrior who had visited Drew that same day who, by all accounts, seemed to be a good friend, going by the stories the two of them had shared about their battles against the Legion. Sarah nodded, pleased that Elias had kept his word and had visited Drew.

Rishuul suddenly sprang up, growling low then omitted an eerie roar. Her eyes were fixed upon the roof of the summer house as a shadow draped over the structure. Sarah and Lhadral moved out and looked up.

"Illidan!" Sarah gasped.

The demon hunter, crouched on the roof, bowed his head in salutation. Lhadral called Rishuul to his side. The cat obeyed after a moment's hesitation and did not move even when Illidan jumped down from the summerhouse roof. 

"Sarah," Illidan said in greeting, then offered the back of his hand to the panther. The cat eyed him warily but slowly, stretching her neck out, she sniffed. The fel that ran through Illidan's veins was obviously unsettling for the beast, but the demon hunter did not move his hand away. "What is her name?" he asked, kneeling to reassure the cat he was no threat.

"Rishuul," Lhadral replied, watching the demon hunter with interest.

Illidan's mouth twitched at the corners. "You are a beauty, Rishuul. A friend worth knowing," he said to the panther, his voice adopting the characteristic tones of the night elf he once was. Rishuul pushed up from beside her master's feet and moved warily towards the demon hunter. After a few moments, she nudged his hand. Illidan's smile broadened. She reminded him of the nightsaber he once had when he lived in Suramar, many thousands of years before.

The scene took Sarah by surprise. She would never have expected the Lord of demon hunters to be so taken by a cat. As she watched the bond develop between the two, she smiled. There was so much she did not know about this man. Going by Illidan's current demeanour a past memory seemed to be recalled with great affection, perhaps even hankered for, she knew not. There was a complexity about him though, one that she might never fully understand, but which made him even less of the demon which he appeared to be. Breaking the moment, she asked what brought him there.

Still petting Rishuul, Illidan answered. "I was coming to get you when I noticed you heading this way."

"To get me?" she asked.

Reluctantly, Illidan ceased clapping Rishuul and stood, facing Sarah and Lhadral. "It is time, Sarah."

"Time? For what exactly?" The moment the question left her lips she knew it was probably the most stupid thing she had ever said. She sighed heavily and with a quick glance at Lhadral she nodded and dropped her eyes to the ground. "I understand."

"I take it we will have others joining us?" Illidan asked, his head turning to face the night elf hunter.

After introducing himself, Lhadral answered. "A few, yes. Where are we going?"

"Stonard, to begin with." Illidan noticed the night elf's brows pinch. He understood. "Worry not, they have all been told a possible Alliance posse will be arriving but with no ill intent towards them."

For all she knew this moment would arrive, it nevertheless weighed heavily on Sarah's heart."And then where?" she asked, raising her eyes. Again, she knew the answer, but somehow she needed it confirmed.

Rishuul padded forward and nudged Illidan's hand. The demon hunter could not refrain from smiling at the cat's affection, but when he looked back up at Sarah and Lhadral, his face became serious once more. "The Dark Portal, and then Draenor."

 

Mick stretched. His night had not been quite as unpleasant as the previous one had been in the god-forsaken swamp. Since Illidan's arrival a day earlier, things had improved somewhat, in that everyone seemed too preoccupied with what the demon hunter was planning with Waquro and the others, that they did not seem to notice Mick anymore. He was not complaining. He was actually quite relieved, it meant he had time to think of what he was going to do. 

He had listened intently as the Lord of demon hunters spoke of the Void and the threat it allegedly posed. Admittedly, it was not something he was well versed in (lore of the game was something he couldn't really be arsed with, he just liked to quest, kill and raid).

He surmised as the Burning Legion had been defeated in the real Azeroth, and gamers were still attempting to work their way through the game version, this Void couldn't possibly be  _that_ bad. After all, this whole universe  _was_ merely a mirror image of the game on Earth -  _was it not_? All gamers aka Champions of Azeroth had battled and defeated everything thrown at them by Blizzard, the creators of World of Warcraft. So what could possibly go wrong?

What was the Void after all? By what he'd heard, it consisted of a bunch of armoured shades, spectres if you will, that practised the art of shadow magic. The Azerothians had that too, as well as frost, fire, arcane and countless other spells such as plagues, pestilence and draining the life of their enemies. They weren't exactly handless. And then there were the weapon wielders, great hulking warriors, paladins and hunters. There was enough fire-power between them all to lay this shade-infested Void to rest. Surely. 

 

**_Music: YOU AGAIN by Árstíðir_ **

 

Then there was the Iron Horde. The ones the Draenorites feared. Their original leaders had been defeated yes, but they seemed to be reforming under new leadership by what the orcs San'ti and Galurk said. That being the case, they would be pissed! Seriously pissed. 

A force like that would most definitely be worth siding with. If anyone was going to win this pending battle then surely it would be them. They too had all the weaponry and magic to boot. Into the bargain, look at what Mick had to offer. Inside information on the horde, the alliance, Illidan, Khadgar, this Sarah person, and ...Drew!

He huffed as he thought of that last individual. He had overheard Bernie telling Mel that Arcaena had taken her to meet him the first night the demon hunters had arrived at Stonard. He didn't listen to details - well not deliberately, anyway. He heard enough to know that she and loverboy were back on speaking terms at least. 

He sneered and sat up on his bunk. Drew!! Prick of the year. Quite why Bernie was attracted to him, Mick couldn't fathom. It was his understanding that the guy had an average job, made less than average money, and lived in a boring part of the country. Mick on the other hand, held a good position, lived in the city, made excellent money, had style, knew important people. Compared to Mick, Drew had nothing worth offering. 

 Why had she never even considered  _him_ then? He had been nothing but nice to her. Okay, he teased her now and again, but hell that's what flatmates did. He never ever said anything to hurt her though. He ran his fingers through his now less-than-well-coiffed hair and sighed. Granted, he had turned a bit mean since arriving in Azeroth, quite where that had all come from he wasn't even sure himself. He'd paid for that too. Several times.

He stared into the dying embers of the campfire. His mind questioned if things would have perhaps turned out differently had he not been so keen to pass through that portal of Drew's. But, Bernie had never shown any interest in him prior to Drew, if he was honest. Then again, oddly, he never seemed to bother much either until someone came on the scene to pique her interest. 

Quite what was going on in his head about her, he wasn't entirely sure. He had attempted asking her out on occasion, without her side-kick Mel in the picture. Without exception though it always ended up the three of them down the pub or going for something to eat. Maybe, if they got through this "adventure" he might have a chance to find out if it was worth pursuing.

He scuffed at the earth, kicking it onto the fire and dousing the last of the dwindling embers. From what he had gleaned by listening into conversations, the plan of action was for them to reach the Dark Portal and enter Draenor. 

If, of course, they got out of Stonard alive. In the last few hours, tempers had frayed between some of the orcs who resided in the complex. It was rumoured that it was due to the far-reaching effect the Void had on the peoples of Azeroth and Draenor. Shouting, clashing of steel and the odd thwack of a mace had been heard nearby, followed by the booming voice of Waquro as he tried to pacify the argumentative orcs. 

Things certainly seemed to be unravelling now, Mick thought. Hopefully, the Iron Horde would be epitomized by their name, and this fracturing of clan relations would not affect them. 

A strange whirring sound permeated the air. He looked towards the door of the hut and saw flashes of green, azure and violet bleeding through between the hides. He moved to the door and peered out. 

 A portal had materialised in the centre of the complex. The orc guards tensed, weapons readied to defend against whatever emerged from the swirling mass. Waquro pushed through and signalled for the others to lower their weapons. 

The unmistakable cloven hoof of the Lord of demon hunters stepped through the portal, rippling his wings as he fully exited the swirling mass. Next, two dwarves, a male, hunter by his weaponry, and female who looked like she could pack a punch. A night elf with green hair was next, going by the crossbow slung over his shoulder another hunter, followed closely by a large powerful looking panther. 

Mick grunted as the individual following was none other than Romeo - Drew. Interestingly, a worgen followed him, a warrior, huge, powerful, deadly and a teeny weeny bit scary with all those teeth. 

Finally, a woman with beautiful long dark auburn hair, a figure made for the dirtiest of fantasies and a look of hidden, simmering power. She had to be none other, than this Sarah, he had heard of. 

 He was mildly disappointed that no-one else emerged before the portal closed with a whoosh and sound of a bubblegum pop.  _Where was the famous Archmage?_  he wondered.

He stepped out from between the hides. His eyes immediately crossed to Bernie whose quick strides across the complex towards Drew instantly captured his attention. They clung to each other, almost eating faces. 

Mick sneered. His disdain soon turned to a sadistic mirth however as he noticed the blood elf mage, Alaen, heave a sigh. Seemed the mage had a little fancy for Bernie too, for the look dejection on observing the smooching couple was unmistakable. The mage's eyes soon lit up however when they landed on Sarah. 

_This is going to be interesting,_  Mick thought.  _Wonder if Khadgar's woman has a weakness for mages of all races,_ he sniggered quietly. The cold hard stare from the woman suddenly made him gulp, his smirk faltered immediately. Nonetheless, he did not break eye contact with her and she only turned away when she was introduced to Waquro, San'ti and Galurk.

Illidan continued to introduce the party to everyone. Mick turned to enter the hut again when Waquro shouted to the gathered company. "Make sure you all have what you need. We leave now!"

"What?" Mick said to no-one in particular. He had thought they would at least be sitting down to discuss details and tactics. Seemed he had not been paying quite enough attention to the chatter in camp after all, for everyone else was packed and ready. Not that he had much to organise he supposed.

The Tauren signalled for him to join them. He slouched over to the company, feeling Sarah's stare burning into the back of his neck.  _What is up with this woman?_  he wondered. He reached the group as Alaen started to conjure another portal to take them over the last milestone to their main destination. Mick glanced round wondering who had made the first one. "The creator is not with us," a voice behind him said. He spun round to find Sarah.

"How did you ...?" He blurted.

"From your puzzled face," she replied.

"Oh. For a minute I thought you'd read my mind," he smirked. The corners of her mouth twitched, but she did not reply. Instead, she looked straight ahead as the group started to move forward.

Within moments, they were all stood in front of the Dark Portal in the Blasted Lands. The arid air was a vicious contrast to the swamp's humidity. Those not used to the drastic changes in Azeroth's climates were all gasping and trying to get their breathing steadied. It did not help that looming above them were the gargantuan pillars of the dark portal. The hooded figures, leaning on their giant swords, somewhat menacing in their sentinel duty.

"Jeez! You never really understand how big this thing is when you play the game," Mel said, his eyes scanning the daunting structure before them. The low steady thrum of the portal's centre was almost hypnotic.

Waquro and the two frostwolf orcs took the lead, Illidan and Arcaena stayed at the rear. The Tauren was about to move forward but Illidan shouted for him to stop. Waquro turned, questioning why they should wait. Illidan pointed towards the sky. From the north-west a grey cloud approached. As it neared, the group saw it was squad of demon hunters. They descended and landed almost in unison behind their leader. Illidan turned back to face Waquro. "You may proceed."

 

_**Music: JOURNEY THROUGH THE PORTAL by Audiomachine** _

The Tauren and orcs appeared unaffected by the conditions of their passage, progressing steadily, but it was a different story for the Earthlings. As they entered, the whirlpool sound of the time conduit first intensified to deafening proportions then shrank rapidly to a mere high pitched hum. All clapped their hands to their heads. It was like being stuck in a vacuum, the pressure in their ears becoming uncomfortable, the strain on their lungs, painful. Panic was building.

Bernie and Drew held hands, each trying to press through the viscous centre. Mel looked at Mick, both unnerved but refusing to reach out and help each other. The dwarves ploughed ahead, even they were finding it a hard slog. Sarah linked arms with Lhadral while Rishuul padded close by, her mouth gaping in silent roars of anguish. Their progress seemed slow as if wading through oil, a strong current flowing against them.

The demon hunters grabbed the humans, dwarves, night elf and panther. With wings extended the Illidari powered through the portal's centre. Even with their aid, the dim light at the far end seemed a lifetime away. The humans started to gasp and gulp. Noses and ears began bleeding, eyes tearing, snot pouring. Their fingers were curling in on themselves from the sheer pressure of the portal. Fear took hold. The need to scream was desperate. Consciousness was slipping. The light was growing, but only marginally. The end was so near yet still so far. 

Then...they were spat out, tumbling and spinning over the damp earth and soft vegetation. Finally, they were on Draenor ground.

Mere feet from where they landed, others had gathered. Sarah glanced around, pushing herself upright from the ground and dusting down her clothing. She watched as Waquro and the orcs moved to the left where a larger group stood. The Frostwolf clan. One wore a black mask around his eyes, similar to the demon hunters. The orc was afforded respectful salutations. He was large, bare-chested but otherwise adorned in furs. Huge tusks, possibly talismans, hung from his belt on long leather thongs. Sarah assumed this was Farseer Drek'thar. He looked every bit the proclaimed powerful shaman he was.

It seemed many had braved the portal. All races, both Horde and Alliance were gathered in respective groups, some busy building camp, or preparing food, others in deep discussions, no doubt about how best to defend the land from the Void.

The humans huddled closer together, joined by Erik, Gwen, Lhadral and Rishuul. The demon hunters formed a semi-circle around them.

From within the crowds, Sarah felt someone watching. Her breathing deepened and her heart beat a little quicker. Her eyes scanned the crowd from under her lashes. A feeling of excitement peppered with dread filled her as she locked onto her observer. 

The steel eyes of Archmage Khadgar did not hold any welcome.


	26. To Keep You Warm

Fighting off the feeling of Khadgar's obvious fury that she had arrived in Draenor, Sarah wandered through some of the small camps, accompanied by the Tauren and Illidan. 

 Waquro introduced them to Drek'thar. The shaman seemed very inquisitive of the demon hunter. He revealed that there had indeed been a winged creature, the likes of which he had never seen before, which appeared in the visions he had of the Void. On meeting Illidan, he was now confident  _he_ was the one who featured in the augury of pending events. 

When asked if the visions, therefore, forecast the outcome of the battle, the shaman spread in an enigmatic grin. His answer did not provide the result they had hoped to hear. In truth it was something of a very depressing conundrum - when he spoke of the apocalyptic force of the Void he said, "Nobody and nothing on the planet can stop it. However, all is not lost. We must answer that which is asked of us. " Sarah inwardly guffawed. He could do to take a leaf out of his own book she thought.

The shaman had then turned his attention to her.  Whether he awarded her a smile or a sneer she wasn't sure - hard to tell with those tusks stretching his lips. He said nothing of her part in any vision, but he did say he sensed her "incompleteness." She flinched at his words. "You are broken, yet the Light has its purpose," he said. Again, he provided nothing more than puzzles. Quite frankly, how others interpreted his words as prophecy, was beyond her.

The camps had grown considerably what with the Frostwolf clan and those who had passed through the portal. Others still, seemed to be from Draenor itself, many of which were draenei. It was fitting, she supposed as it had after all been one of the places the draenei inhabited in abundant numbers even though the planet was originally home to the orcs.

Some fairly rough-shod tents were being put up, supplying basic shelters for most. Pockets of people had all formed little campsite gatherings, some even trying to lift everyone's spirits with song and good banter. If this was indeed to be one of their last nights, no-one grudged a little merriment. Not even those of higher standing.

The hierarchy, of course, the Kirin Tor, had their tents pitched with all manner of luxuries inside. Khadgar was no exception and he and the other members of the Six all had their private chambers within individual tents. Two Kirin Tor Banners were buffeted at the entrance of their circle by the evening breeze.

Sarah had refused to acknowledge the grandeur. In fact, it repulsed her. Such pomp and circumstance at a time such as this? 

Inwardly, she was furious with Khadgar for being so perfunctory. Perhaps though, it was more the others' doing than his? She hoped so. It was in truth, so unlike him, but then again, she felt she no longer knew the man. 

Within the space of just over a week, he had gone from a caring, proud father, and warm, attentive partner to a cold, distant stranger. Illidan kept assuring her it was the poison of the Void, just as it affected so many others. 

Certainly tempers were frayed, tolerances were at an all-time low and the odd brawl had erupted, but still, it was hard for her to accept that her beloved Khadgar was also victim to the plague of morbidity and pessimism. That said, what else could it possibly be? He was at heart a kind, loving and generous man, who did everything in his power to protect all that was dear to him and the people of Azeroth. Of course, there was a professionally serious side to him, there had to be, but not to this degree. Not to the point where his eyes never warmed and his mouth never smiled. How she missed her Khadgar; the one she knew and loved.

Rishuul lay beside Sarah, the yellow eyes watching all that was going on around them. Sarah sat with her back to the affluent tents and patted the big cat's head. Rishuul was a pleasant distraction from all the finery behind her. 

She hadn't even voiced an opinion when the tents were erected. She had looked away in disgust and concentrated on building their own camp and helping Gwen and Bernie prepare the evening's meal for their group. There was enough to go round, it was nothing grand but it would sustain them. It seemed the creatures in the area had been spooked, most likely from the pending threat, so it was fairly slim pickings for Erik and Lhadral to provide their meals.

Erik grunted drawing her attention from the meat roasting on the small spit. He held out his hand to Gwen. "Think oo'll tak' a wee stroll while denner's cookin'," Erik said, as Gwen took his hand. The female dwarf glanced over Sarah's shoulder, then nodded to Erik as she stepped away from the campfire.

"It won't be that long until it's ready though," Sarah protested.

"Long enough, methinks," he answered, indicating someone approaching from behind. Sarah sighed heavily; she just knew it was Khadgar. She nodded to Erik and watched as he and Gwen strolled off.

Quietly she counted to ten then turned and looked up. He stood with blankets in hand.  _Really_? She thought, biting back a reactive sneer. The urge to read his mind was irresistible. A quick glance at his eyes, however, informed her he was prepared for that. No doubt he had formed a wall that prevented her from probing his thoughts, she mused. With considerable restraint, she just huffed and turned back to the spit.  There was no point in subjecting herself to more hurt through veracious suspicions.

"I thought you could use these, to keep you warm," he said, almost compassionately.

"Someone will benefit, no doubt," she scoffed, throwing a look over her shoulder. Her heart was hammering as she struggled to stay calm. There was so much she wanted to say but saying it without screaming, shouting or worse, crying, was proving difficult. She saw him place the blankets beside her. She swallowed back the desire to touch his hand.

"I could conjure some food..." he offered.

"No. Thank you, we are fine."

He glanced at the slim pickings on the spit and the few bowls of jerky, bread and cheese. "You need to eat."

" _No,_ I don't. I'm not exactly going to starve to death now, am I? I'm immortal -  _remember_! Save your food for those who need it." It had all come out much sharper than intended.

He cast his eyes to the ground.  "I was thinking of your friends."

She felt her insides collapse at that statement. "Of course, you were," she mumbled.  _How stupid of me to hope you had thought of_ me, her mind retorted.

Silence. She looked up through her lashes to see the others standing not too far away. They were trying to be subtle, but she knew they were watching, listening as best they could. 

Illidan's obvious disdain at the Kirin Tor luxury, however, was not so well disguised. For all he had insisted none of it was Khadgar's doing,  he still mumbled it was disgraceful the Archmage had left Sarah out in the cold. Now seeing him coming with blankets was adding insult to injury. His fists clenched, he was finding it difficult to stay his ground. Arcaena put a hand on his arm, attempting to ward him off from getting involved or saying anything. He grunted and turned away.

**_Music: FAREWELL LIFE composed by Arn Andersson & Nights Amore_ **

 

She heard Khadgar huff behind her and gathered he'd noticed the exchange between the demon hunters, aware of its meaning. He moved round to her side. Her eyes rested on his boots. "Sarah," he said quietly. "You  _know_ why I am angry with you. You should not have come here. Ocel is ..."

" _Fine_!" she retorted harshly. She bolted upright. She would not allow him to cast her as a contemptible mother. Fighting to keep the tremor from her voice she lowered her tone so those near would not be privy to their conversation. "He is fine, Khadgar. Lukha is watching over him in Stormwind. Do you honestly think me so incompetent a mother now, as to leave him uncared for?"

"That is  _not_ what I meant..." His tone hardened.

"Glad to hear it!" her eyes blazed. "At least I said goodbye to him and told him I loved him before I left. Did  _you_?" she challenged.

He shifted uneasily on his feet, then a little quietly he uttered. "As a matter of fact, I did."

"You left the house without so much as a wave! You didn't even go in to see him!" she hissed.

"I teleported back - later. When you were..." his voice drifted.

Her breath caught in her throat. Rejection washed over her yet again. " _Sleeping?_ " she finished for him. He nodded and looked away briefly. "How considerate of you," she managed, her eyes rising skyward in a bid to stem the tears. If he could dig the blade in any further she would be very surprised.

"All I want is for you to be safe - immortal or not," he said hurriedly, moving closer so only she would hear. " _Both_  of you! I do not know how well I will fare against the Void, Sarah,  _if at all_ , but worrying about you being here has not made the task ahead any easier to deal with."

"You  _worry_  about me Khadgar?" She guffawed. "Oh, I can tell! That's why you recline in luxury with your snobby upstarts from the Kirin Tor, is it not?" She pointed an accusatory finger at the purple accommodation. "Meanwhile, the mother of your son means so much to you, you come out offering food and a few blankets for her to sleep outside under the stars." 

She saw his jaw tighten and his eyes darken. She had touched a nerve there. But she was far from done. "Then you have the  _audacity_  to tell me off for wanting to help so our son has a chance to grow up and lead a happy life?"

He grabbed her arm, pulling her closer. "Sarah, you don't understand..."

She shirked free of his grip. "No!  _You_  don't understand! We are  _all_  facing an enemy which  _none_  of us really know how the hell to defeat. You and your cronies over there are no more prepared for this than we are!" A flicker of uncertainty flashed over his eyes. She took a deep breath and continued. "And contrary to your beliefs, this is  _not_ a show of superiority on my part for I  _know_ am  _no better_ than anyone else, and most certainly not better than you. Nor is it meant as a slight against you or your  _colleagues!_ I just had to work harder at it Khadgar because I was the outsider, an alien, someone people didn't know whether to trust or even like! I was the weirdo that played at all this for  _fun_ on a  _machine_!"

His eyes warmed a little, the hint of a smirk played at the corner of his lips. He looked thoughtfully towards the Kirin Tor camp. 

After a moment he was about to say something, but Sarah, who had been looking towards her friends, continued with her train of thought. " I am doing this for  _us_ \- you, me and Ocel, as well as Azeroth." She turned to face him. "I am simply wanting to do right and I am trying to work  _with_ you,  _not_ against you, but you have shut me out. The Naaru, have said that I can help. I admit I don't know how yet, but I'm working on it. Can't you  _see_ that?"

He stared at her. She could tell he was trying to work out her logic, though inevitably, no doubt, it would be nullified. "And what if you don't work it out? What then?" he said, the familiar indomitable expression of a Leader of the Kirin Tor having returned to line his face.

She sighed, realising with a sharp twinge in her heart that she had just wasted her time trying to make him understand or feel anything other than animosity against her. "Then I guess we're  _fucked_!" And there it was. Nullified!

He stood back, momentarily speechless from her profanity but more so from the finality of her statement. His steel eyes glanced over her shoulder. The demon hunters and her friends were all huddled together, watching. He shook his head and started to walk away.

"There was a third curse bestowed upon me!" she shouted after him. He stopped, marginally inclining his head to the side. He said nothing, but she saw his chest heave as he waited for her to continue. She swallowed and moved forward so she was directly behind him. "And right now, it's the worst of the three," she said, trying to keep the tremor from her voice. Still, he didn't move or speak. "At least have the decency to look at me!" she pleaded.

Slowly he turned. He stood straight and tall, his eyes catching the yellow glow of the campfire. He saw her lip quiver as she spoke. He subconsciously swallowed, something in her tone tugged at his heart. His eyes remained fixed on her lips as she spoke. 

"I am cursed to love you for all eternity, even though you do not feel the same for me anymore." His steel gaze moved up to her eyes. She poured out the next words before her resolve vanished. "And I  _miss_ you - the Khadgar I once knew that is. I don't even know if he is still in there anymore." She prodded his chest, then gulped in a lungful of air and turned to leave, the tears now flowing freely. 

His hand caught her arm, but she shrank from his touch, shaking her head, and retook her seat by the campfire pretending to busy herself with dinner. Rishuul nudged her arm so it wrapped around the back of the great cat's neck. The yellow eyes watched Khadgar, warily.

Her pain was worn like a shroud and blatantly apparent to all who watched the exchange. Instinctively Bernie clasped Drew's hand. Drew empathized with Illidan's take on the situation also and he wanted nothing more than to go and punch Khadgar for being such a prick. For all he too was aware that the Void sapped many hopes and emotions, he nonetheless wanted to beat the man senseless. He knew how deeply Sarah felt for the Archmage and it pained him immensely to see her hurting so acutely.

Khadgar quietly observed the group of friends, some of which looked away as he made eye contact with them. With one last long look in Sarah's direction, he sighed, then turned and headed back to the Kirin Tor camp.

Vargoth and Modera saw him entering the camp with a face like thunder. They both looked out towards where the woman Sarah and her entourage were stationed. 

Modera eyed Illidan with an incontestible aversion. She was not overly impressed with the creature and had not forgiven him for his outburst in the Violet Citadel.  _Puny council_ , indeed! Vargoth had followed Khadgar into his tent. Modera, with a victorious smirk, thought she might just pay a visit to the so-called apple of her Leader's eye.

Gwen and Erik had rejoined Sarah and together with Drew, Lhadral, Bernie, Mel and Mick, they were starting to eat their supper. Illidan joined them. He considered one thing Khadgar had said, and thinking back to his days with Lord Ravencrest, he pulled on his abilities to do exactly as the Archmage offered and conjured food for them all. Sarah gasped as did the others, except for Arcaena. " I didn't know you could do that!" Sarah said.

"Hmm, I'm a little rusty, but it is better than what you had," Illidan smiled, his fangs glinting in the firelight.

"Full of surprises aren't you, Betrayer?" Modera's acidic tone said from behind the group.

The demon hunter turned and rose to his full height, towering over the Champion of the Tirisgarde. It had been some time since anyone had called him by that name. He resented the name now, and his face clearly showed it as his lips curled back over his fangs. Modera fought off a flinch at his threatening presence. All eyes turned to her.

Sarah rose up and turned to face her. "What do  _you_ want?" she asked.

"To speak with you, that is all," Modera said, her eyes still flitting between Illidan and the rest of the group.

"Well, speak, then go back to your pampered pavilion," Sarah said dismissively as she chewed on a piece of jerky.

Modera looked down her nose. "Do you have any idea to whom you are speaking?" She stepped closer to Sarah, out of Illidan's shadow.

"Yes, and to be honest, I don't care," Sarah replied, completely unfazed by the woman. She heard a snicker behind her and assumed it was probably from Mick.

Modera pushed her chin forward and clasped her hands firmly in front of her, almost matronly. "Seems there is little you  _do_ care about, Sarah, including Khadgar - or his son."

Sarah's eyes blazed at the woman's insolence. She took a step closer to the slender woman. "And what gives you the right to question who or what I care about?"

"The fact that had you not  _infected_  and  _distracted_ him with your foolish Earthly wiles he would probably know how to deal with this threat which looms over us all."

The rest of the group tensed. The intimation was crystal clear. Modera loathed the woman who Khadgar loved, believing Sarah responsible for having prevented him from focusing properly on his duties and responsibilities. 

Sarah however, was never phased by the powerful females in Azeroth, two of which had taken an instant dislike to her once. She fired back in her usual inimitable manner when tackling such women. " _Probably_? Is that a hint of  _uncertainty_ about your esteemed leader's capabilities, I am hearing? Take care Modera, your words could easily be misconstrued and suggest you have no faith in him. Mutinous talk, indeed."

Modera puffed out her less than ample chest, incensed that her insult was thrown back at her. "How dare you!"

"Yes, I dare," Sarah growled. "You pompous, arrogant bitch! How dare you come out here and speak to  _me_ in the manner which you do. I am his life partner, the mother of his son and whether you like it or not, that will always outrank you!"

Modera sneered back. "Yet, he leaves  _you_ out here ..." she cast her eyes to the ground and waved her hand over the folded offerings. " ...with a  _blanket_. Oh  _yes_ , you outrank me right enough, Sarah of Earth!"

_Touché,_  Sarah thought.  _Bloody good actually. And painfully true._

Modera!" A male voice shouted from the edge of the Kirin Tor camp. Vargoth stood at the perimeter, his familiar, the water element Glacious, beside him.

The woman glanced over her shoulder and sighed a little irritably before turning back with a supercilious smirk. "Ah, seems  _I_  am wanted," she said.

Sarah bristled. She heard the unspoken sentiment,  _Unlike you."_ Never one to let her antagonists have the last word she spat out her final response _,_ "Better hurry back then. Mustn't keep you from kissing your leader's arse must we since you seem to think that makes  _you_ important." 

Before the egotistical mage could respond, Sarah turned away and started serving up dinner to her companions.

Modera, infuriated, stomped off back to her camp. On reaching Vargoth she glared. "What!" she said hotly.

"He's gone."

She paled. "What do you mean  _gone_?"

"He teleported out. He said there was something he needed to do."

 

Khadgar stood surveying his study. It felt strangely alien to him, standing in their home with no Sarah or Ocel in the rooms along the hall. He closed his eyes and imagined he could hear her laughter and his son's infectious chortle. He felt his heart clench.  _How have things come to this,_  he wondered. Sometimes he'd felt like he was a puppet, dancing to the tune of the Void, unable to make his own decisions or at least the correct ones.

He had heard himself say such dreadful things to Sarah over the past few days. Granted, some things had crossed his mind even before the Void had made its presence known, such as the affiliation she seemed to have with Illidan. Perhaps he resented that they had a power which he was not privy to? Was that part of this issue with her? No, deep down he knew it was not. The demon hunters, elven and human alike, worked together well and he could not deny that. Was the issue then, even Sarah?

No. In the safe confines of their home, he could finally admit it was fear that he was somewhat inadequate. As a leader, a warrior, an Archmage, a partner, a father. To have come so far, achieved so much and to now feel he would ultimately fail,  _that_  was what had truly been gnawing at his conscience, his vanity. His ego? 

His emotions had been in turmoil, fueled by his fear of incompetence. A realisation that for all his years of dedication, reading and absorbing that which could be learned about magic, still, he was lacking.  With all his studies of history, the multi-racial denizens, the past and potential threats to Azeroth, he was not confident that he could protect those he loved from this pending apocalypse. 

It had caused him sleepless nights, worry-filled days and shamefully, he had vented anger towards the one he loved above all others. He had not meant the hateful words he had said to her but, he  _had_ been unable to prevent them slipping from his mouth or invading his mind.

He sighed heavily and looked towards his desk.He had been neglecting his daily duty and for that, he felt dreadful. It was a ritual he had begun from the day he'd found her, lying near the lake in Goldshire. An exercise in which he had been fastidious, even if it stole into the time he needed for other matters, and it had become a labour of love. His negligence rose up and aggrieved him when she made her last comments but a few moments ago. Now he simply  _had_ to bring his testament up to date.

**_Music: END OF INNOCENCE by Kamelot_**  

 

 

Of the things she had admitted to him recently, the only one that really concerned him was her ability to read his mind. Not that he had anything he wanted to hide from her, truthfully, but there were things that she need not be concerned about, such as things of state, Kirin Tor business.

As for the fact they would never have more children, well that had been a blow he had to admit, but then again he was blessed with his son; a miracle which he thought would never happen for him. 

He did, however, feel ashamed that he had not comforted her when the pain of that revelation so obviously cut deep for her. And then there was her immortality - concerns for her there were abundant. How would she cope with the loss of loved ones, friends, watching them grow old and wither before her ageless eyes? He feared so much for her being left alone, it made his heart bleed. 

His breath caught in his constricting throat as images of her lost in sorrow flooded his mind. Over the past few days, he had lost sight of how fortunate he was to have the love of a woman who had willingly accepted all his foibles and failings. She had embraced them fully without judgement or question and had turned her back on her own world and life to be with him. His heart swelled and wept at the same time.

He rounded his desk and opening the small pouch on his belt, he removed a delicate key. Bending down to the bottom drawer of the desk, he pulled it open and removed a steel box. He sat down and placed the box in front of him slotting the key in. With a metallic click, the lock sprang open. Almost with reverence, he pushed the lid back and gazed at the box' contents. 

A journal, in red leather, ornately embossed, in which only the best parchment was bound, sat within. It was a book documenting his love for Sarah. It was filled with all his emotions, moments they had shared, thoughts they voiced, sketches he had lovingly crafted and promises he'd intended to keep. He had poured his soul into this. She knew not of its existence. Now perhaps, she should.

Opening the book to a fresh page, he picked up a quill. He dipped it in ink and tapped it lightly on the ink pot's rim. Then he paused. The sting of tears nipped as he contemplated the strong possibility he may not survive tomorrow. If fate planned to tear them apart, then she should know that she was not the only one 'cursed' to love forever. He loved just as fiercely and if this was to be the end, he needed her to know how he felt in a way he could not bring himself to say to her earlier.

He cast his eyes over Atiesh, the guardian's staff, leaning against the bookshelf to his right as he gathered his thoughts. Then after a few moments, he started to write.

 

 

He wrote for another hour or so until finally, he had said all he had to, wanted to, needed to. He left the book open and placed it in the centre of the desk, sorting a small disarray of documents and scrolls, so her name would be easily seen. If she made it home after tomorrow, hopefully, she would find it. He prayed to Elune that it be so.

He replaced the steel box back in its drawer, closed it, then stood up. He considered walking through the house to perhaps say farewell but decided against it. All he needed were the images of Sarah and Ocel, which were already imprinted in his heart and mind. If he crossed over to the Twisting Nether tomorrow, their faces were all he would need to survive the loneliness.

Grabbing his staff, he teleported back to Draenor and the cold confines of his tent.


	27. The Night Before The Morn

 

 Not a sound could be heard. No lowly bellows of the lumbering, musky clefthoof which roamed the plains. No birdsong or screeching from the rylaks which inhabited the cliff tops; their nests bearing their future generation. No howling winds that swept through the canyons and over the snow covered mountains. Nothing. Just an eerie silence.  

**_Music: RISE OF THE BLACK CURTAIN by Audiomachine_**    

 

 The black nimbus which had appeared and grown for days over the sea, north of Frostfire, pulsated and writhed like a giant cocoon, preparing, ready to burst forth with the miracle of new life. But this cocoon did not promise such a splendiferous display. Within its centre was nothing but death and decay. A vile devourer of life; a cancer, the snuffing out of hope, jubilation, and light. A destruction from which nothing would recover. It's baneful, nefarious ubiquity was a toxic, deleterious blister, which hung with contemptuous intent to erase all in its path.

Then, from within the cloud, a low, menacing sound began...

As the embryonic thrum began to build, other sounds joined its chorus. The beasts of the plains had finally found their voices as the ominous vibration filled the air. Panic stirred the creatures of Frostfire. At first, there was a disorganised flurry of wings, a too-ing and froing of hooved and pad-footed creatures. The frightened shouts and screams of individuals in villages and hamlets dotted over the fire and ice landscape followed suit.

The cloud began to roil and fold. Eyes looked up as an unearthly yawn opened the nimbus fully; the sound it omitted like that of a colossal door opening on rusted hinges. The sound stretched across the entire region of Frostfire. The cloud pulsated once more, then like a backdraft and flashover of fire it exploded forward. Hurtling overland, its shadow turned the pristine snow ashen and black.

 

From within the murk, enormous shades descended. Pulsing, transparent forms rippling and shimmering with lightning and shadow. Their heads, shoulders and arms emblazoned with esoteric armour. Flashes of electric energy emphasised their bulk, and their torsos tapered to wisps that floated mere feet above the blackened snow. Cruel eyes, brilliant, emotionless specks, surveyed the land before them.

Their mouths opened and ear-shattering ululations reverberated across the sky. Twisters formed, hitting the ground with dull booming thuds. They broke apart the ice and snow, sending it up in crystallized flakes and quickly swallowed by the whirling winds.

In a most disturbing ballet, they swept their arms, directing the vortexes across the land. In their wake, the ground shattered and splintered. It was sucked up and disintegrated further still within the deadly embrace of the twisters. The residue was spat out and sifted again until it was nothing more than dust, ghosting its way upwards to Great Dark Beyond. Where the land had been decimated there was just an empty space - blackness.

The creatures and peoples of Frostfire fled in terror, a unified stampede towards the east. Orcs and trolls were trampled underfoot by terrified wolves and bellowing clefthoof. Agonised roars were lost amid the sound of thundering hooves and snapping jaws. Birds and rylaks took to the wing, abandoning their young, leading the way across the ice-covered plains.

Those unfortunate enough not to be able to outrun the encroaching doom were snatched up; converted to blood and pulp, devoured, processed, regurgitated. Their remains were thrown to the elements, the cosmos, nothingness. The ground was ripped apart, fissures, gaping chasms and newborn canyons were formed in the wake of the lords of shadow. Little survived their passage, most was simply erased, as if it had never existed.

Any sources of magic, be it in the form of ley lines or those individuals who studied the arts, were exorcised by the Void Lords themselves, enabling them to draw on the raw power imbuing them with an even more destructive force. They followed the fleeing creatures and peoples of Frostfire, their appetite knowing no boundary.

The Void Lords had begun their destructive journey. Armageddon was on the march.

 

 

**_Music: DEED AND  DESTINY by Sound Adventures_ **

The confrontations with Khadgar and Modera had left Sarah filled with a mixture of dysphoria and irritation.  Her conversation during the evening meal had been non-existent.  Her eyes had looked inward, as she quietly assessed her life. 

Khadgar's words since this had all began bombarded her thoughts.   _You should not have come here..._ Steel eyes bore into her.  _Stay out of my head Sarah. It is off limits.  Perhaps you_ immortals  _will be safe..._ She fought to keep the tears from flowing again.   _With you, his little pet beside him, perhaps?_

_Your son needs you._   _Your son needs you._ _Your son needs you..._

She got up abruptly and moved away from the group.  Drew made to go after her, but Illidan gestured for him to sit still.  "She needs time," the demon hunter whispered. Drew, nodding his head,  reluctantly agreed to remain where he was.  

Digging her hands into her jean pockets she stood, staring out to where they suspected the Void would attack from.  She could not fathom what it was she was meant to do now.  Everything from the Naaru to Drek'thar had been so bloody cryptic.  Was no-one able to just tell her outright what the next move was? 

What if they  _were_ really fucked? Modera's sanctimonious visage floated across her mind.  _The fact that had you not_ infected  _and_ distracted  _him with your foolish Earthly wiles ... Yet, he leaves you out here, with a_ blanket _._ _Ah, seems_  I  _am wanted._ Sarah fumed. "Bitch!" she hissed under her breath. 

_The Iron Horde could cream this lot in minutes and this pathetic Void._  

She blinked. Had she heard right? She inclined her head towards the group all still sitting,  chatting around the campfire.  

_I'd serve that Archmage up to them for dinner, (a laugh), then fuck his woman every which way possible._  

She spun around. Her eyes searched all the faces around the campfire.  It could only be one of two, she reasoned.  She had a good idea which one too.  Her eyes rested on Mick, who lay a few short feet from the others, arm behind his head, staring at the Kirin Tor camp with a smirk on his face.  His eyes turned and met hers.  He seemed to catch his breath. Then a slow smirk crossed his mouth. 

_Bet you'd enjoy me better than that grey haired prick anyway._

Sarah made sure her face stayed deadpan.  She cleared her throat, then turned and sauntered over to where Mick lay. 

_Oh lookie here, she's interested already._  

     "Mind if I join you?" she asked.

     "It's a free world," he said, smug. "For now."

She was finding him more than a tad repugnant.  "So how are you finding Azeroth?" she asked, pretending to be interested in the vile little worm's opinion.

     "Pretty much what I expected, really," he replied. "Like the game."

     "Like the game," she repeated.  A small laugh escaped her. Oh, how wrong he was.

     "Yes. The world is a bit bigger scale-wise I guess, but otherwise, the same."

She shifted, leaning back on her hands and crossing her feet at the ankles. "So what would be your solution to the Void?" she asked.

     "Me?" he laughed. "No idea."

     " _Really_?" She looked straight at him. He met her eyes and instantly he knew something wasn't right. "Quote:  _The Iron Horde could cream this lot in minutes and this pathetic Void."_

His face went slack. He tried to sit up but she moved with alarming speed and brought her heel down on his groin, pinning him.  He looked up and saw the fury in her eyes - they glowed white-gold.  He noticed the glow under her shirt.   

Illidan appeared behind her as did Drew and Bernie but she signalled to them not to interfere.  Pressing on her foot that covered his manhood, she knelt down, her glowing chest resting on her knee. "You were right back at Stonard you little snake. I  _do_ read minds and I just heard every foul little word your sorry excuse for a brain thought."

     "I-I didn't mean it. It was just bravado..." Mick stuttered.

Sarah's tattoos flared. "I can easily have you cast down to join the Iron Horde if you so wish but be rest assured, they will eat for you breakfast or, if you're really unlucky,  maybe they'll  even fuck  _you_ every which way possible first!" She saw his eyes widen in horror. "Either way, the Void will then take you all out in seconds. It can be arranged, I just need to give the word." She gestured for Illidan to come forward.  As the demon hunter drew up beside her once more, he unfurled his wings and with a loud snap, they were extended fully.

The skinny Earthling wriggled beneath Sarah's foot. "I'm sorry! I was kidding," Mick was genuinely apologetic.  Between the muscle-bound Tauren, crocolisks, green drakes, spiders, Illidan and Sarah, he decided in that instant  _she_ was definitely the scariest.  

With a nod of her head and a smirk, she signalled for Illidan to move back. He folded his wings, turning away to hide a grin. Sarah looked back at Mick. Her heel still threatening to cause him injury, she leaned down again. 

Her face hardened once more. "And as for that comment about the Archmage and me, you've got  _his_ wrath to look forward to now as well. Providing I don't decide to finish you first. The only  _prick_ in this entire universe has his balls at the mercy of my heel right now.  Forget that not, and one day you just might become a  _fraction_ of the man Khadgar is."  

She stood, keeping her foot in the vital position adding a little pressure to further her point. Then with a snarl, she turned and rejoined her friends who were readying for sleep.

From that moment, Mick knew whose side he was on, and  _she_ would have no further trouble from him.

    

**_Music: IN LIGHT AND DARKNESS composed by Adrian von Ziegler_ **

 

Drek'thar watched the scene at Sarah's camp with amusement.  His two wolves, Darkor and Ercka stood at his side, surveying the vast number of campsites in the shadow of the Dark Portal. "That woman is quite formidable," he mused.  

The wolves growled quietly as if in response to his words. He patted their heads. "They chose well with her." He glanced at the Kirin Tor campsite; to Khadgar's tent. "As did he." 

He looked down at Darkor and Ercka. "Now, you two be on your best behaviour, we have things that need to be discussed and I will not have you terrorizing these people." A small whine from both informed him they understood.

The shaman moved towards the Kirin Tor camp, his wolves close to his heel. On entering the circle of purple tents, he was met by Modera.  Her haughty persona always at the fore, she stood, like some bodyguard in front of Khadgar's accommodation.  "Yes?" she enquired of the orc shaman.

Drek'thar grinned at the imperious woman. "Is he back yet?"

 Her breath hitched. "How do  _you_ know...?" she was instantly on guard, incensed that he was aware the Archmage had even left the area.

     "I know much, except that which I ask," he replied, matter-of-factly.  His enigmatic answer obviously irked the woman going by the instant thinning of her lips.

She tried to regain a little composure. Grinning, she formed a little test to challenge his professed knowledge - one which she hoped would provide the answer she sought herself. "And, I suppose you know from  _where_ he has returned?"

     "I do, yes." He didn't really but he was enjoying this game of wits she was desperate to play.  Now was not the time, however. "So, I repeat - is he back yet?"

She fidgeted and clasped her hands in front of her waist. "I do not think ..."

The tent flap swept open. "Yes, I am back Drek'thar. Come in." Khadgar said sternly.  The shaman took a moment to grin at the incensed Modera then stepped inside, ordering Darkor and Ercka to remain vigil.  

Modera stared at the wolves then lifted her eyes to the Archmage whose steel orbs remained inscrutable. "You may go, Modera," he said, the finality in his tone unmistakable. She bowed acquiescence and left to return to her own accommodation.  Khadgar closed the tent flap and joined his guest. 

     "Please, sit," he gestured to one of the chairs around a table, on which he had two goblets and a decanter of wine placed.

     "Thank you," Drek'thar said, accepting the wine as he took his seat. Khadgar poured some wine for himself and sat opposite the shaman. "It has been a while," Drek'thar said.

     "Since you have had good wine or since we last met?" Khadgar grinned.

     "Both," the shaman replied, a touch of humour in his voice.  They drank.  "Regarding tomorrow then," the shaman began, getting straight to business first.

     "Yes," Khadgar sighed, leaning on the arm of his chair, swilling the wine around his goblet watching it coat the edges of the silver.  "I must be honest with you, I am not... confident that we will defeat this enemy."

The shaman remained silent, studying the chiselled features of the man in front of him. He was well aware of the Archmage's abilities, he was by far one of the most powerful mages to come from Azeroth.  That said, he understood the man's misgivings on this latest foe they were about to face.  "All I know Khadgar, is that it will be a battle unlike any other you, or indeed I, have fought before."

     "Encouraging!" Khadgar sighed and raised his eyebrows before taking another gulp of wine.

     "Do not be so hard on yourself.  Your abilities will be required make no mistake, but I doubt they will have much effect on the Void Lords themselves. That goes for my own powers too."

The Archmage stared at the shaman, a look of disquiet settling in his steel eyes.  "Then I do not understand.  What good are all these people here, if we cannot defend our worlds against this enemy."

Drek'thar rose from his seat, placing his goblet on the table and taking account of the surroundings within the tent.  He prodded some of the scrolls and books that floated on a levitation spell. They fluttered in panic.  Further in one corner of the accommodation spun the arm of a planetary model which depicted some alien solar system.  He appeared intrigued by it for a few moments. Suddenly he spoke to his host again. "We each of us have a part to play in this life, Khadgar.  No matter how small or insignificant it may appear to some, it is an important link in the chain that binds us all."

     "With respect, that does not help."

The shaman chortled. "Sometimes Khadgar, I speak in riddles that even  _I_  do not understand." He glanced over at the Archmage in time to catch a look of stunned solicitude. The shaman's lips spread into a wide grin.  

Khadgar sighed, shaking his head.  "You even find humour in the face of extermination?" He could not help but smile a little too.

     "There is humour even in the darkest corners of our world, Khadgar." The two men replenished their goblets and the shaman retook his seat.

Drek'thar looked at his wine thoughtfully before he spoke again. "At first I thought to take my people through the portal to your world, but now I see that it would indeed be folly.  My people and all of those who are from Draenor will remain on this side of the portal, regardless.  Our numbers are here to assist in defeating the Void before it completely destroys  _all_ worlds with which we are linked."

Khadgar sat forward. "But you have already said that our powers are useless against it.  Therefore all we have done is offer it a quicker sacrifice by accumulating everyone in one place."

Farseer Drek'thar drained his goblet in one steady gulp. Khadgar offered more, but the shaman declined.  "As I said, we all have a part to play. Some parts sadly may be...brief, but necessary."

The Archmage bristled. Was he hearing the Farseer correctly? Had he knowingly offered lives to the Void?  In a bid to achieve what? He opened his mouth to protest, but Drek'thar held up his hand to quieten him. "There are others who are still to arrive. They will be the ones to defeat the Void."

     "Who?"

The shaman stood to take his leave. "Your woman and the demon hunter are key to this, Khadgar.  As are the two humans who host the spirits. They too must play their parts."

  "So, fourindividuals then? Six if you count the ghosts.  _They_ are going to defeat a power which is beyond the likes of  _our_ combined capabilities?" The Archmage stood. He breathed deeply in an attempt to stay calm.  

  Drek'thar had reached the tent flaps and was pulling them aside. "No," he said, enigmatically. "But I think even  _we_ will be impressed."   

Khadgar put his goblet down on the table rather clumsily.  "And are you saying their lives will be ...  _brief_?" he asked, a tremor in his voice. 

     "I honestly do not know.  I only saw them in a vision as being some sort of conduits, if you wish." With that, he turned and left. 

The Archmage stared at the flaps of the tent as they rippled in the wake of the shaman's exit.  Drek'thar's visit had not eased his mind in the slightest.  He would be in for yet another sleepless night.


	28. The Unfolding

_**Music: The Riverlands composed by Brunuhville** _

Dawn - and Rishuul's continual growling woke the group huddled under various closely knit shelters. Lhadral called the cat over, but she wasn't for obeying, something had unnerved her. The hunter decided to investigate and moved to his trusty pet's side.

As Sarah's eyes focused, she saw many others rising and looking towards the west. There was an unearthly quiet over the Dark Portal. Then someone called over and pointed to the horizon.

The line between land and sky was shimmering, wavering as if a heat haze had settled. People started moving forward, straining for a better look. Gradually, the cause of the horizon's distortion came into view.

Concerned murmurings turned into shouts of warning. Before long, anyone who had managed to stay sleeping was wide awake, staring at the horizon.

Transfixed, like a frightened rabbit in headlights, Sarah watched helplessly as the world of Draenor started to crumble and float away before her very eyes. The Unfolding had begun. 

 

 

Swirling vortexes, thudding on the ground rose hundreds of feet in the air. They spun at a mind-boggling velocity; twisting and swerving around each other, dancing a most macabre, black waltz.

As their destructive hunger tore through the lands, the Azerothians at the portal watched helplessly. Mountains, trees, streams, distant villages, towns and camps, were all uprooted; raped, torn, only crumbling foundations remaining. Like distorted pixels on a computer screen, they warped, twisted and shrank into nothingness.

Sarah's eyes welled as she saw The Void Lords. Gigantic, ethereal, powerful and seemingly indestructible, they crossed the horizon. Their vile vortexes snaked further inland making their way to the portal - towards the world she now called home.

Armageddon had come to Azeroth, and nobody and nothing on the planet could stop it.

She was supposed to know what to do now, but the sight before her had stripped her of the power of thought. Although the vortexes were still far from where the armies were located, the need to act now was critical. 

Illidan, Drew and Bernie stood beside her, their silence saying it all.

Perhaps Khadgar had been right, her coming through the portal was pointless. His words still stung. It seemed as though their world was going to be erased sure enough. She turned her eyes to where he stood, his face set like stone as he observed the devastation before them. In that moment she understood his feelings of helplessness. She was willing him to look at her, so he would see she was there for him in this desperate hour, even though she felt just as helpless. But look at her, he would not. Had he erased  _her_ already? she wondered. 

An incongruous thought invaded her mind. If they all survived this, she would be nothing more than the cast-off lover of the Archmage, scorned, destined to live alone for eternity in a world she could not leave. Ocel was her only reason for not stepping through a portal to Earth and ceasing to exist herself.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. She dragged her gaze from Khadgar and looked up at Illidan. "Remember Sarah, this is not who he truly is. The Void is manipulating him, his emotions, his actions, his words. The real Khadgar is still in there, although buried deep." For all the demon hunter was agitated by the way Khadgar had treated Sarah, he firmly believed the Void was his puppeteer and therefore genuinely defended the man.

She sighed, trying to keep tears at bay. "Perhaps - but it still hurts. I've never known him like this; so cold. He is a stranger to me. And how does the Void not seem to affect me, or you, for that matter?"

The demon hunter gently squeezed her shoulder and after some consideration offered an explanation. When he had inadvertently made contact with Tiene as he grabbed Bernie, she had told him that as they were infused with the Light, they were exempt from the Void's influence. It was that same Light which has also enabled Illidan and Sarah to communicate with Tiene and Camnath. Their spirits, in turn, protected Drew and Bernie. 

"Not everyone is affected by the Void certainly," he went on, "but there is a higher chance for others to be manipulated, as opposed to us. We four, or should I say  _six_ , are here for a reason, otherwise, why would we be burdened with such responsibility? With Tiene and Camnath's help, we will defeat the Void. I admit I do not yet understand how but, I know we  _will_ do it. I also believe Khadgar will return to you as a result."

She gave his words consideration. They sounded feasible enough and she appreciated his faith, but she did not share it. The man she loved was as good as lost to her. She could only cling to an infinitesimal amount of hope that he just  _might_ still feel for her. 

For now, she had to focus on the approaching threat. She sniffed and straightened herself. No longer riveted by the encroaching Void, her mind started to calculate their options. She discussed it quietly with Illidan -

_The Void - shadow, all that is dark and foreboding, wiping out all that exists._

_It will destroy all that the Light created. The Light!_

_Without one the other could not exist! Chaos - a necessary evil. We cannot exist without mobocracy - Camnath's words. All good must be balanced by evil and vice versa._

_But how?_

_There was only one option and as absurd as it seemed, it was all they had._

_It was time to call the spirits._

     "Bernie, Drew come here. We are going to bring Tiene and Camnath forward and just hope we understand the solution." The four of them formed a circle. "When we clasp hands don't let go, no matter what." They nodded. "The rest of you -" she jutted her chin at her friends and the Horde company. "Move back. I don't know what will happen when they both emerge together."

 The dwarves and the others nodded, Lhadral calling Rishuul to his side. The cat growled low but followed her master. All moved away to a safe distance.

     "Wait!" Bernie said. Sarah looked at her questioningly. 

The redhead stepped forward and threw her arms around Drew's neck. "Just in case we don't make it," she whispered to him. Then she was kissing him long and hard. Drew folded his arms around Bernie's waist and returned the kiss.

Sarah lowered her head, her heart hurting. She could not help but feel a touch of envy that Khadgar did not feel the need to kiss  _her_. This  _could_ potentially be the final time he would ever be able to. 

She chanced a glance under her lashes in his direction. His eyes were on Drew and Bernie. Was there nothing left inside him that wanted to hold Sarah for one last time? The steel orbs drifted over to her. She felt the corner of her mouth twitch, just a spark of hope - then it was extinguished as he turned away and moved closer to the portal. There, he resumed his vigil of the advancing Void. Sarah swallowed back the pain.

      "We should hurry," Illidan said. Sarah looked away from Khadgar and checked the scene behind her. The Void was making preternatural progress. She could now clearly see and hear the ground being ripped and sucked into the twisting vortexes. Within the noise other more unsettling sounds were starting to come through; that of people and animals being torn apart and spewed into the Great Dark Beyond.

Another glance afforded in Khadgar's direction and she witnessed him ordering the mages and priests to cast their shields and barriers over the people in the battlefield. She watched as shimmering walls of arcane and frost powered by spinning runes rose from the ground and stretched wide enough to reach those who had camped a little farther out from the portal.

She turned back to her three companions. "Quickly now," she said. Bernie and Drew reluctantly pulled apart and retook their positions opposite each other. "Ready?" Sarah asked as she flexed her hands to either side of her. The other three nodded. "Let's not waste any more time then. Now!" 

The four of them clasped hands and an unearthly jolt of power passed round them all, like a pinball machine, bouncing back and forth, building in speed and intensity. "Do... not... let... go!" her voice trembled through her gritted teeth. It was hard to be heard over the hissing and crackling of all the magic in close proximity. 

Their bodies shuddered, even Illidan's, whose physique was many times bigger and stronger than any of theirs. Golden ethereal wisps burst forth from both Drew and Bernie. They emerged in a rush, swirling, twisting, expanding, surrounding the four individuals who held hands; knuckles white from their grip. Both Sarah and Illidan's tattoos pulsed, growing brighter as the millions of particles coalesced centrally finally forming the spirits of Camnath and Tiene.

Khadgar stood in silent awe as the seraphic forms of the two blood elves became homogeneous beings. His lips parted slightly, hope just daring to reach through his gloom but it was swatted away by the evil approaching on the horizon. 

The Void Lords unearthly, almost metallic sounding ululations tore through the din of the whirling winds and erupting ground. The Archmage shuddered. Few monsters had ever frightened him, but these vile lords of shadow and destruction chilled him to the bone.

As Tiene's spirit became monophonic, Sarah gasped at the rare beauty before her; the golden hair framing delicate impish features enhanced by dazzling green eyes. Emotions already raw, it took little for tears to spill from Sarah's eyes at the sight of the Blood Elves.  

Drew had told her their story and it's unique tragic beauty seemed even more poignant now as they stood amidst the pending obliteration of their world. 

Sarah's attention drifted back to the steel orbs she loved, and for a moment she thought she saw a look of lost hope swimming within them. It pained her. Tiene leaned close to Sarah's ear. "Worry not dear friend. He still loves you, he's never stopped. He just needs the veil to be lifted. As do many others, and that's what  _we_ are here to do."

Sarah fixed Tiene with a bewildered look. "But how?  _Two_ of you against..." She turned to face the on-going destruction behind them. "... _that_!" She faced the beautiful elf again. 

Tiene smiled. "No, not just the two of us Sarah. You and your friends have merely opened the door." She turned to Illidan. "And thank  _you_ Illidan, for  _everything_. You contributed  _greatly_ to this moment. You did not even realise that your act of kindness in allowing me to be with Camnath, had already set the wheels in motion for what is about to happen ."

The demon hunter inclined his horned head. He seemed almost embarrassed.

Camnath took Tiene in his arms."Ready?" he asked her, his smile utterly charismatic.

     "Yes, my love," she replied, tracing ghostly fingers over his mouth.

The male elf nodded to Sarah. "Drew and Bernie should step away now."

"But, we'll lose you again," Sarah exclaimed, tightening her grip on both Drew and Bernie's hands.

 "No, not this time, Sarah. We are here for the duration now." He assured her. The spiritual couple disengaged from their embrace and stood merely holding hands. "Let go."

Sarah knew to trust the spirits. She nodded. Releasing their hands Bernie and Drew fell back a few feet joining the others. Drew readily accepted the redhead's hand as she moved next to him.

 "Now what?" Sarah asked.

 "Sorry, but we need to use both of  _you_ now," Tiene said, an apologetic look in her eyes.

 " _Use us_?" Sarah glanced at Illidan, bewildered.

 "Just  _do it!_ Whatever it is!" Illidan said, his voice taut, urgent. He was facing the Void as it continued to make its steady advance. "We are running out of time!"

In a blur, Camnath was absorbed into Illidan while Tiene invaded Sarah. Instantly both of them flared, their tattoos ablaze, brighter than ever before, causing both to scream and roar. Their bodies started to levitate.

 

**_Music: WHEN IT ALL FALLS DOWN by Audiomachine_ **

 

From the portal Khadgar watched, his heart beating faster as he saw Sarah rise from the ground. He shielded his eyes as both she and Illidan's illuminated bodies became blindingly bright. 

The ground started to quake, the vibration intensifying and he stumbled to the portal column to steady himself. Loud cracks and grinding noises arose. With his hand still fanned out to shield his eyes, he squinted to where he last saw Sarah. He whispered her name, a distant longing trapped within his mind. The light was so intense he could barely make out her shape even though she hovered mere feet from the ground. 

His eyes moved to find Illidan, but even his demonic seven and a half foot frame was difficult to locate. Beneath his other hand, Khadgar felt the pillar shudder. His eyes rose to its apex. If this collapsed then the Azerothians would be trapped on the Draenor side. There was no time for the creation of new portals in the midst of trying to keep the people safe from harm as well. He needed to form a supportive shield around the structure and call everyone through. They had to leave  _now_.

Fissures ripped the earth from the portal over to where Sarah and Illidan levitated, some of the earth caving underfoot and stretching off into the distance. Some of the make-shift camps were swallowed by the crumbling earth, disappearing into the abyss.  Bodies vanished as the earth tremors caused people to lose balance and fall to their deaths within the gaping chasms that opened. People started to panic, shouts and screams rose, straining to be heard above the din of the ground fracturing.

To the west of the portal, the Void was hurtling relentlessly towards them. The Void Lords themselves were now clearly visible. Gigantic, deliquescent shades sizzling, rippling with shadow, the magic of doom and destruction. The ground they crossed disintegrated beneath them, violently sucked up by the vortexes following on all sides. Behind that, was nothing, just blackness filled with distant galaxies and solar systems. All that remained of the Void Lords' passage was dust and debris tumbling endlessly into the Great Dark Beyond.

Ear-splitting discord and a sound similar to an enormous yawn of pain erupted as the ground continued to heave and split. Cracks in the surface ran furiously in all directions like possessed roots of an ancient tree. 

Expeditiously, the light which surrounded Illidan and Sarah leapt into the black sky. It shot out in fierce, prodigious flares; giant luminous fingers reaching for the clouds, beating afresh every few beats. Soon the sky was torn asunder, ripped before their very eyes as it first heaved then folded, opening a great fissure and stretching towards the cosmos. 

From within the carnage of the heavens, a moving mass of shimmering light started to descend. Down it came, pulsing, steady, bold. It's celestial brightness stretched down, kissing and caressing the dry cracked earth, dispersing the darkness from the land. The sky continued to open, like a huge curtain being drawn aside in a theatre and still, more of the brilliance came towards the ground. 

Azerothian faces turned upwards, their features being bathed in the radiance from above, a mixture of fear and hope in their eyes.

Khadgar saw the first rupture appear in the portal's pillar and muttered an incantation. A blue transparent dome formed at the base of the portal. It increased in size, it's appearance that of an enormous bubble, runic symbols dancing over its domed surface. He shouted to the people nearing the portal. "Come, you must get through, back to Azeroth! This is going to collapse!" He stood Ateish, his guardian's staff against the pillar and with a rotating circle of runes emanating from his other hand, he powered the dome. It thrummed and pulsed as the people ran towards him and passed safely through the portal.

Sarah's eyes, though still ablaze with preternatural light, turned to see the people massing towards Khadgar. Her vision blurred as clusters of the light started to take shape in front of her. Her focus altered and she turned in mid-air, taking in all around her. 

She called out to Illidan. As his taloned hand reached out to her, they felt themselves being lowered to the ground. The moment their feet hit the earth Camnath and Tiene pulled away from them. Sarah felt as if she had just been twanged and snapped like a giant elastic band. "What...?" she breathed, staggering from Tiene's spirit being expunged.

Her vision adjusted and as far as her eyes could see, row upon row of empyrean beings were lined all the way from the east to the entrance of the portal. As she glanced up, more of the celestials were arriving. 

Sarah smiled. Now she understood Drek'thar's enigmatic words. " _Nothing and no-one_ on the planet..."  The spirits of the Twisting Nether were the warriors and defenders of Azeroth and Draenor,  _not_ the living.

Illidan stood, his covered eyes studying all around; head turning to take in the unearthly sight before them. 

Raging screams of the approaching vortexes and the penetrating hum of magic surrounded them, but it was being punctuated with the crackle and hiss of the elements pulled in by the spirits. Illidan leaned closely to Sarah so she could hear above the noise. "We need to get out of here!" 

     "What?" she gasped. "We - we can't just leave them - " she gestured to the spirits. "They - " she faltered. There to her right stood two ethereal visitors she recognised. 

Vindicator Ocel, Khadgar's lifetime friend and confidante, and Tharaei Swiftfeather, the young mage who died in Goldshire during the battle with the Burning Legion. 

Erik had appeared and nudged Sarah. He too saw them. She glanced down at the dwarf. His eyes were glistening at the sight of the young elf whom he had once looked upon almost as a son. Both spirits turned to face them, heads bowed in respect, then they moved forward with the ever-expanding population of phantoms.

Sarah saw Tiene with three men, one older and hugging the blood elf warmly. She deduced this was Tiene's father. The two younger males had to be her brothers, a ranger and a warlock. They also embraced Camnath. Tiene turned and smiled at Sarah. It was truly a touching moment. Her family and husband all reunited; all ready to do battle to save all the living.

Camnath came over. "You must leave now," he said. "Get to the portal, we will stop the Void here before it gets through to Azeroth." 

Sarah was shaking her head, but the elf was insistent. "You have done all you can, it is our time to serve Azeroth. You  _must_  get through the portal, now." He turned as Tiene joined them.

Illidan yanked Sarah away, she resisted, fighting his grip and digging her feet into the shattered earth. "Wait!" she pleaded. She loosened her grip and ran back to the blood elves. "What happens to  _you_ now?" She shouted above the ever-increasing din.

Camnath smiled mischievously and spreading his arms wide, he announced: "We save the world!" Tiene nudged him in the ribs with a playful reprimand.

Sarah's eyes betrayed her fears for them. Tiene wrapped her arms around her and although she could not feel the elf's touch Sarah sensed her nearness by the flow of static running through her. "We will be reborn, somewhere," Tiene explained. "We are blessed, we have not spent millennia in the Nether, so we will live again. If we are lucky, we may even have some recollection of who we once were and of  _you_ , brave, sweet Sarah. But this is our swan song for now." Tiene pulled back. "Now go and love Khadgar. He  _will_ return to you, I promise."

 

**_Music: HERALD OF JUSTICE composed by Brunuhville_ **

 

Illidan grabbed Sarah again and headed for the portal, but once more she struggled against his grasp. She had to see what was happening. He knew she would continue to fight, so he stood firmly behind her, holding her arms, ready to flee with her if necessary, but he too was soon transfixed by the scene in front of them.

The spirits from the Twisting Nether were still descending like an endless shower of shooting stars in their thousands, before materialising as the individuals they once were in life. Line after line advanced on the enemy, but the Void Lords still pushed forward, sending in their vortexes to decimate the earth and all who graced it.

Azerothians who had come through the portal in good faith to assist in the war were busy piling back through, steered to safety by Khadgar. The Archmage maintained his shield, propping up the crumbling structure. The rest of the council also provided shelter for those further out in the field. The earth was continuing to heave and erupt underfoot, panic rising again. As the masses moved towards the portal, so did the Six, conjuring more shields as they retreated, protecting all who followed.

The first clash between the spirits and Void halted everyone in their tracks. Massive flares of light ignited the surrounding land and sky as the spirits, blessed with the Light of the Naaru pervaded the shadows and twisting vortexes. 

The sound of the approaching storms escalated as the impact occurred and ear-piercing screams of the dark elements filled the air. Lightning crackled and fired in every direction, exploding, flaring, splitting the ground and piercing the sky from its collision with the twisters. With each contact, the spirits in the front lines would disperse opening the way for the next battalion of elysian beings to move forward. And still, they streamed down from the heavens.

The ground behind the Void continued to be ransacked, its components sucked up, defragmented, turned to mere dust. Even enormous stampeding elekks, riverbeasts and wolves were snared by the twisting, dancing winds. Lumbering fungal boglords and giant plantlike mandragoras were being rooted up and torn apart, their agonised roars and shrieks being lost in the winds of destruction. Thousands of smaller creatures never had a chance to outrun the storms and were devoured into the nothingness within a blink of an eye. 

The Void Lords, enormous, armoured shades, continued relentlessly raping the land, their gaping distorted faces mouthing their deadly commands to the elements which they bent to their will. Draenor was being eaten alive, its people, creatures and flora devoured by twisting, elemental weapons of war. 

Sarah watched, her heart heaving as she witnessed more ethereal beings descending, replacing those that were fractured, riven, dispersed. The light never waned, no matter how many hundreds fell to the mercy of the shadows. How many more could there possibly be? All these poor souls; people who had once lived and loved, now defended Draenor and Azeroth so the living would continue.

Screams were heard nearby as lines of Azerothians, unable to reach the safety of the Kirin Tor shields, were seen being dragged along the ground, the gravitational pull of the elements drawing them towards certain death within the violent whirlwinds. Bodies were whipped up into the twisters and dismembered by their sheer force. Limbs were spat out from the clutches of the vortexes, body parts breaking apart even further, becoming specks, dust - nothing. Now they too joined the forces of the Twisting Nether and returned to fight in their ethereal forms.

A familiar roar sounded nearby had Sarah turn to see Drew holding on to Lhadral, desperately pulling him back towards the portal. Her eyes shot to her right as she saw Rishuul being dragged towards the whirlwinds, claws raking, digging into the earth, it's maw open in agony. Tears spilt from Sarah's eyes as the big cat was pulled up into the twister, it's body turned to mush, then matter. Lhadral folded at the loss of his loyal pet but Drew was finally able to get him to the portal.

Demon hunters flew in to rescue those who were still too far out, but they too were sucked into the churning chaos and spat out as unforgivingly as all the rest. Illidan signalled the remainder of his demon hunters to fall back. Too many were being lost, they would be needed on the other side to aid the injured.  He ushered the remainder of the group around him towards Khadgar - Bernie, Mel, Mick, Erik, Gwen, and their Horde allies Waquro and the orcs. Grabbing Sarah tightly by the arm he pulled towards the others. 

Spells, strengths, abilities other than shields or healing, were useless against the power and destruction of the Void Lords. Only individuals who could offer protection to those fleeing stayed rigidly on the Draenor side of the portal aiding Farseer Drek'thar and his Frostwolf clan and shamans to keep the portal open just a little longer. Khadgar and the Kirin Tor continued to herd the people through.

Sarah glanced frantically up at Illidan, "I can help!" she mouthed. He shook his head. "No," he shouted against the roar of the elements and magic. "We will serve better on the other side. We must get through, Sarah!"

 "Oh my god! No!!" Bernie screamed. They all looked at her then followed to where she pointed. 

Searing white fingers of lightning struck the pillars and then sparked off the apex of the structure. The supporting pillars of the portal were starting to crumble. Huge chunks of rock and metal were being torn down by the sheer force of the approaching Void and its elemental army. Sarah looked at Khadgar.

He roared at those nearby to make haste and reinforced his shield with the help of the Kirin Tor members who had reached him. His face was taut with unexpurgated conviction. He shouted for his colleagues to focus on the shields while he attempted to teleport some of the stragglers that were still too far out in the field. He managed to rescue about a dozen before Vargoth shouted they needed his power to maintain the shields.

Illidan barked orders for his Illidari to assist in getting the people through the portal. The demon hunters swooped down, picking up two individuals each, where possible, and flew through the watery centre. Within moments the Illidari returned to repeat the rescue process. 

Illidan lifted Sarah up and unfurling his wings he made to take flight. A Void Lord materialised nearby. It simply lifted its arm in command and an invisible force hurtled the demon hunter back, casting him into the dirt with Sarah still cradled in his arms. 

A group of phantoms descended and placed themselves between the Void Lord and Illidan. The creature of shadow roared, its liquescent form starting to bubble, boil and vapourize as the Light from the spirits invaded its form. 

The Lord of demon hunters rose up, stunned, pulling Sarah with him. Kayn, Arcaena and several other Illidari came to their aid and together they formed a living shield as they escorted their Lord and Sarah back to the exit from Draenor. Reaching the portal gateway, Illidan herded his demon hunters and others through.

Khadgar glared at Illidan from the opposite pillar. "You could have saved more people!" he shouted; his eyes dark, accusing, judgmental.

"Too many are lost already, Khadgar. I will not waste my Illidari's lives trying to save the dead," the demon hunter replied sternly.

The Archmage challenged the demon hunter. "You sacrificed others willingly enough in your past, just as you did now with your cowardly retreat!"

 

   

 

Sarah watched in horror as Khadgar started to turn the power of the runes towards Illidan. The demon hunter merely stood, unchallenging. "Stop this Khadgar! You are not yourself," he said, ushering Sarah behind him. 

Illidan's protection of Sarah fueled Khadgar's fury and the runes flared, pulsated. He prepared to strike.

"No! Khadgar! You are better than this, old friend!" The unmistakable deep baritone of Vindicator Ocel boomed behind the Archmage. Khadgar turned slowly, a look of shock and disbelief on his face. Ocel stood tall, proud, regal. "He is your friend" the Paladin gestured to Illidan. "... and  _she_ is the love of your life and mother of your son."

"Ocel!" Khadgar mouthed. The grinding of the surrounding stone drowned out his voice.

 "Go!" Ocel boomed to Illidan and the others, before turning his gaze back to his friend. "You are strong my friend, and you will overcome this dark spell, it is almost extinguished as we speak." The Paladin glanced at Sarah, then back at Khadgar. He held the Archmage's gaze then leaned in and said something only Khadgar could hear. Khadgar nodded slowly in understanding. Ocel pointed towards the Azeroth side of the portal. "Remember. All is  _not_ lost. Now go.  _Move_!"

The members of the Kirin Tor fled past Khadgar, the spiritual Paladin, Sarah and Illidan, shouting for any stragglers to follow posthaste. 

Fortuitously, brightness like a solar flare spread rapidly through the sky. Shielding their eyes, they tried to see what was happening. Looking out beyond the portal, the vortexes appeared to have halted in their advance. On closer inspection, they were dwindling, shrinking, dispersing.

 Sarah stumbled towards the edge of the pillar for a better look. The Void Lords were screaming, fighting against a new flare that was reaching down towards them, it's brilliance oozing, humming with power.

Khadgar appeared beside her, his face laden with relief. His eyes scanned past her. Then, he gazed at her face. In that split second, somehow, amid all the chaos around them; the grinding, scraping, thunderous noise of stone and metal crumbling,  the crackle of magic and unearthly forces, the shrieking demise of the Void Lords  - he had  _finally_ returned to her. 

" _Sarah_!" he said, his eyes full of remorse. 

Her heart swelled. With eyes brimming, she reached up to touch his face but, another blinding flash drew their attention out across the ruined land of Draenor. There, coming through the shimmering, heavenly light were the crystalline forms of five gargantuan Naaru, smaller ones following close behind. Their unmistakable song breaking through the din of destruction that had resounded over the land but moments before.

"How is this possible?" Sarah gaped. "They were near extinct."

Khadgar grabbed her hand.  Understanding flooded him. "They have been reborn," he replied, hope having returned to his eyes and voice. "The spirits have somehow given the Naaru new life." 

Behind them Illidan and Modera were shouting for them to hurry. They could not tear their eyes from the scene and continued to watch as the Void Lords became undone in the wake of the Naaru. Shadows were being sent back to the Great Dark Beyond, the threat of annihilation receding with every passing second. The celestials were pulsing, vibrating, their forms floating above the ground, blessing and healing the land as best they could while sweeping the evil that was the Void, from Draenor itself.

 "Sarah! Khadgar!  _Come on_ , this is going to collapse." Illidan roared.

Khadgar turned and pulled Sarah towards Illidan. As he reached him he pressed Sarah's hand into the taloned one of the demon hunter. "I'm sorry for -  _everything_. Get her out of here," he said. "Now!"

Without hesitation, Illidan pulled Sarah forward entering the watery centre of the portal. Sarah fought against his grip but as always, he was too strong. "No!" I have to stay with him," she pleaded.

"No! You do not. He is following. Look!"

 

 ** _Music: FOR FREEDOM'S SAKE by Serenity_**  

 

She turned and true enough, Khadgar was following but when he caught sight of Ocel once more, he stopped. He engaged the Paladin in conversation, even though it looked like Ocel was trying desperately to usher Khadgar towards the Azerothians and safety. 

Panic engulfed her and Sarah struggled again to wriggle free. The demon hunter maintained his grip and pulled her along. The watery gateway was becoming brighter as they closed the last few yards towards Azeroth and the clean air of their world. She tripped as she tried to see behind her. Stumbling, she shouted for Khadgar to hurry. 

Daylight hit her, it's brightness unexpectedly brutal for all it was a softer, mellower light than what they had all just bore witness to in Draenor. Illidan didn't release her until they were a good hundred yards from the entrance of the portal.

Drew and the others joined them, relieved to see both safe. Sarah immediately pushed past them, her eyes focused on the entrance to the portal. Her heart was hammering. Then he appeared. She gasped with relief. His eyes found hers and for the first time in days, she saw him smile warmly at her. He had indeed returned.

The deafening crack of solid stone made him look up. The left-hand pillar was starting to slide, a fissure having sliced down at an angle. He turned back to Sarah. Her eyes were wide. "Khadgar! Move!! Come to me now!" she screamed. 

Something distracted him. He turned back towards the entrance. " _No_! Khadgar!" She started to run towards the portal, but immediately demon-hide wings folded around her stopping her in her tracks, pulling her back.

The pillar screamed as the stone ground against itself, cracking and crumbling. The Archmage appeared back at the entrance holding Ateish, his beloved staff; a look of relief and victory on his face. 

"Come to me!" Sarah screamed again, both terrified and furious that he went to retrieve the staff. A huge slab hit the ground only feet from where he stood. He looked up. The pillar was starting to slide and break away.

From her right, Sarah caught sight of Drew running towards the pillar. She found herself cast to the ground, rolling over, landing belly down in the dirt as Illidan unfurled his wings, kicking off towards the portal.

The Archmage saw both men approaching. He shook his head, signalling for them to turn back. Drew was almost there, only a few short feet to go. Illidan closed in on the opposite side. 

Bernie was beside Sarah now, she was screaming for Drew to turn back. Sarah picked herself up off the ground and tried to run forward. Her feet felt like they were running through molasses, she felt she was getting nowhere. Her panicked eyes met Khadgar's steel orbs. Her heart stopped as she watched him clearly mouth two words -

_Forgive me!_

With one final ear-splitting crunch of the stone, she drew to a slow, agonising halt. 

Helpless, she watched as the pillar collapsed, the rocks, metal and dust swallowing Khadgar whole and Drew with him. Her voice was lost in a silent scream. 

All motion slowed to a snail's pace and sound vanished into the vacuum of the noiseless pounding in her ears. People were running past her, their mouths open in silent screams and warnings as they tried to escape the enormous dust cloud that spewed up from the pillar's impact on the ground. 

Slowly, sounds started to re-emerge, muffled screams and throaty shouts spun around her head. The sensation of being underwater enveloped her, everything was dulled and she was struggling to breathe. Mindlessly, she started pulling at her hair, clawing her face. Her mouth was still open, screaming Khadgar's name, but she could no longer hear herself pronounce his name. 

Bernie's arms surrounded her shoulders pulling her close as Sarah continued looking towards the pillar where she had last seen Khadgar standing. Losing balance the two women slowly stumbled to the ground.

Illidan had escaped the pillar only to be buffeted from the updraught of it hitting the ground. He landed clumsily on his feet but then swiftly made his way to the women's sides as they fell to the ground. He folded his wings over them, protecting them from the outpouring of dust and debris. He roared as some of the rocks, spat out from the collapsing pillar struck him heavily on his back. 

After a few minutes, satisfied that there were no more missiles to inflict pain on them, his wings opened and he released the two women. Bernie rose and started calling out for Drew as she shakily approached the rubble. Illidan issued verbal warnings to proceed with caution.

As the dust started to settle, coating both the living and those unfortunate to be victims of the carnage, Sarah's markings started to glow, her senses trying desperately to reach out and pick up heartbeats beneath the rubble. 

She fought to keep her tears at bay so she could concentrate. Focusing beyond the agony she felt, her light combed the rubble that was once the pillar. 

 _There!_  A faint but unmistakable steady beat echoed through her and she pointed to where she sensed its source. Bernie scrambled over the rubble, shouting that she could hear Drew's muffled voice beneath the rock. 

Relieved though she was to have picked up his heartbeat, dread engulfed Sarah as her continuing search was proving fruitless. She was becoming frantic. 

Another heartbeat was all she wanted. 

One beat. 

_Please!_

Time slipped away, as did the chance to locate even a hint of another beat.

The atrabilious consideration hit her hard. There was no mistake. Absolutely none. She just knew.

Khadgar's heart was silent.


	29. A World Without Him

**_Music: THE OTHER SIDE || Ruelle_ **

Bodies lay injured, bleeding. Broken. Still. 

The air was filled with sobbing, praying, incantations, crying out of names, orders.  But, she heard no sound, no weeping, no talking or shouting. Nothing.  

She felt - empty.  

All around her, others tended to the injured, comforted the bereaved and helped in the search for those yet unaccounted for.  They were mere phantoms, wisps that floated aimlessly past her, their passage stirring strands of her hair, creating ripples in her shirt, nothing more. Sarah stared at the fallen pillar. Kneeling in the dust and dirt, her eyes looked, unblinking, where she had last seen Khadgar.  Her tattoo's luminescence flickered, slowly fading, puttering out.  Her mind played over the scene again and again and again.

_Forgive me..._  

His eyes, silver in the shadow of the collapsing stone, his face, handsome and unbearably sad. Gone. Lost. Stolen.  His last smile swept over her inner vision, the ghost of his touch passed through her, a tug, a clinch, a jolt.  

She exhaled sharply as if she had been holding her breath for an immeasurable, impossible length of time.  The expulsion of air caused her to fall forward, her left palm hitting the ground, stabilising her while her right clutched at her stomach. Gulping, her insides ached, pounded, contracted - and burst violently into life again.  

Her eyes looked up through her hair. The portal.  Bernie was clambering over the rubble calling out for Drew, Mel and Mick were helping.  So Khadgar  _had_ to be there too.

She pulled her feet out from under her and shakily they supported her as she stood.  One step. Dragging her other foot. Another step. She stared at her feet, willing them to move faster, she had to reach the broken pillar.  Her movements started to become fluid and moments later she was standing in front of a mound of crumbled stone, warped metal and shifting shale.  Looking up, she watched as the three Earthlings tried moving blocks of concrete out of their way.  

"Drew! Can you still hear me?" Bernie was shouting, her voice racked with sobs and fear that her love was injured beyond recovery.  Mel and Mick also called out his name.  A muffled sound responded. 

"Move!" Sarah said.  The three of them looked up.  Her tattoos once more started to flare, the light seeping in through the stone.  Her healing would reach him and she focused even harder to try and levitate some of the surrounding stone.  The excited cries from Bernie let her know it was working.  A large slab, impossible for the three humans to move on their own shifted and slid away, opening enough space for them to see under the sarcophagus of broken stone.

"Drew! Drew!" Bernie called, her voice muffled as she leaned down to look into the gap.  Sarah's light faded once more.  A squeal of relief as Bernie stood, arms out, beckoning the emerging form of a very dusty Drew.  Bernie steered him away from the rubble, back to safety where he would receive more healing and sustenance. 

In his hand he had clutched Atiesh, Khadgar's raven carved staff. The sight imbued Sarah with hope once more. She remained where she was, staring again at the fallen portal. Her mouth formed his name and it spilt from her lips in an agonised whisper.  

She started to climb the mound, slivers and shards sliding down from her feet scrambling up.  "Khadgar!" she said louder. "Khadgar!"  She started to try to shift some of the smaller stones with her hands while once more her flare moved the more stubborn slabs.  Her fingers started to bleed, a nail ripped clean off but she kept delving into the rubble.  The mound shifted underfoot. To her left, half of the remaining pillar started to sway.  "Khadgar!" her voice reached shriek level.  "Khadgar! Answer me. Please!"

Her hands came up to protect her eyes as dust and grit buffeted up.  A huge pair of wings folded around her. Illidan. "Sarah, you must stop!"

"Khadgar!" she fought against the demon-hide shroud.

"No! This is going to collapse more, you must come away."

"No, he must be here! Khadgar!"

"Sarah!" Illidan tried to keep the sorrow from his voice. "He is gone. There is  _nothing_ we can do anymore."  He kept a tight hold of her and unfurled his wings.  

The sharp crack of the remaining pillar reached across the mound.  "Everybody! Move!" Illidan shouted.  

Those who searched atop the mound and below started to run for safety.  Illidan extended his wings and lifted Sarah just as the pillar slid, pulling the remainder of it down to cover where she had just been trying to excavate. "Khadgar!" she wailed as the demon hunter carried her away. Her heart folded. 

He was gone.

 

**_Music: THE WORLD IS SAFE by Audiomachine_ **

 

Landing a safe distance from the obliterated pillar, Illidan steadied Sarah, holding her gently by her arms.  Her eyes were vacant, still staring towards the rubble.   "Sarah," he said, his breath hitched.  "I'm so, so sorry I didn't reach him in time."  

There was no indication that she heard him, or that she was even aware of his kneeling beside her.  She seemed lost in her own thoughts.  After checking she was not physically hurt, other than a ripped nail, Illidan moved to those nearby needing aid.

All around, people were tending to the injured and the grieving.  Others moved back to the crumbled pillars, pulling out those who lay trapped beneath stone and metal, searching for sounds of life from all around the heap that was once the dark portal.  

Sounds of weeping and pain mingled with incantations of healing and prayers of the Light. Shamanistic totems,  runes and nature's healing circles were in abundance. Druid healers, some having adopted their tree form moved between the masses, their healing following in green and gold wisps, finding those in most need.  Deep wounds, cuts, grazes were all being bound and cleansed.  

Illidan's gift of the Naaru spread out over small pockets of people huddled, giving each other comfort and words of hope.  Others, not so fortunate, were lain to one side, readied for transportation home and burial.

Blinking slowly, Sarah looked up. Birds circled the area, some were druids on the lookout for strays who wandered, stunned and injured from the scene of carnage, others were carrion hoping for a free and bountiful meal, others still were simply those disturbed by the noise and destruction from minutes before. One, caught her eye. 

A raven. "Khadgar!" she breathed.  She watched as the bird soared above, back and forth between the mound of rubble and the field of injured people. "Khadgar!" her voice called, finding its strength. She pushed up on her knees. Pointing to the bird in the sky she started shouting. "Khadgar! Khadgar!"  

She glanced round for someone to hear her, for someone to see where she was pointing.  Again she called out his name.  The bird swooped overhead and back towards the ruined portal. Her eyes never left it. She kept shouting his name.

Atiesh landed beside her and a pair of hands grabbed her shoulders.  Drew, shook her, not unkindly, but enough to drag her eyes from the sky. "Sarah!"

"Khadgar!" she said pointing to the bird.

Drew looked up.  There were many ravens, as there were many other opportunist birds. With a heavy heart, he shook his head. "No. It is  _not_ Khadgar," he said. "Sarah!" He shook her a little more vigorously until she looked at him.  He fought to keep his own tears at bay, but on seeing the haunted look of absolute loss in hers, he gulped as a single droplet escaped. 

He quickly wiped it away, not wanting her to see his pain when she was obviously suffering so much of her own. "If it was him, Sarah, he would be down here, reassuring you and helping others. Would he not?"  He stared, wide-eyed at her, refusing to let her eyes reach back to the sky in search of a false avian hope.  

The veil of grief slid over her face and the tears began to trickle.  Beside them, Bernie knelt and took Sarah's hands. Drew nodded to the redhead, indicating he would help tend others if she stayed with Sarah.

The searches for loved ones continued, as did the healing.  The Kirin Tor aided with portals, ferrying people back to the cities.  

From a distance, Modera watched Sarah.  She could not contain her own sorrow at the loss of her leader and wiped the tears from her eyes with a dusty hand.  The woman who she had so readily accused of not caring for the man, sat in a pool of the deepest sorrow she had ever seen.

She wanted to reach out to her but decided it was best to leave her alone, for now.  There would still be raw wounds and no doubt animosity awarded her from the woman, and she would need time to heal emotionally.  

Modera had never felt such overwhelming sympathy for anyone, as she did for Sarah at that moment. Another wipe at her eyes, and she continued with the business of portalling people home.


	30. Tears of Azeroth

Five days had passed since the collapse of the Dark Portal when the Void was expunged from the planet of Draenor.  In that time, Sarah had remained at Lukha's house with Ocel. 

Going home was a journey she was still trying to find the courage to make. Entering those four walls would be very painful for her, but she vowed she would do it today, after the memorial service. She would need time, however, before she felt able to care for her son without the young draenei's help. Lukha, as always, was so kind and understanding. Gwen was also keen to help and offered her services willingly.

Apart from a few close friends, she had not communicated with anyone other than some rather unexpected visitors, two days earlier. She had spoken at length with them. They had conveyed their sympathies and promised she would find peace in her heart, in time.  

When asked if there was anything they could do to help, she thought long and hard about what she wanted to ask them. Her answer had taken them by surprise. It was something that would be given consideration if, indeed, the need arose.

 

 

Now, she sat in the summerhouse in Lukha's garden, Ocel gurgling and cooing in his portable baby seat next to her. 

A butterfly danced over the bright blooms and then drifted over to the infant. His eyes fixed on it as it fluttered in front of him, his little mouth breaking into a smile. The butterfly landed on his leg, its proboscis dabbing his soft skin. Ocel chortled, drawing Sarah's attention to the insect on his leg. 

She watched as it opened and closed its orange and azure wings - a flash of colour, then a dull powdery sepia, a flash of colour, sepia, a flash of colour... She smiled wistfully as Tiene and Camnath came to mind.  It was symbolic of them in so many ways - a token of their love for one another, their emergence from sorrow to find each other again, even their spirits, another evolution and still together - everything about them had been represented by a never-ending chrysalis and rebirth. She wondered if they now graced the planet again, their divinity held within some little boy and girl somewhere, waiting to meet again. 

Desperately she tried to push aside the feelings of hopelessness for her own existence. Her daunting future as an immortal. Although she knew it was morbid, she also wondered if Khadgar's spirit may find another host so-to-speak. Would she meet him in years to come? Would his 'new self' recognise her? She reached up to wipe away the tears that flowed over her cheeks.  

She glanced at Ocel again. He was still chortling at the little butterfly. Her brow pinched and she chastised herself for being so self-piteous when here she had the embodiment of true love in the form of her son. In him, Khadgar would live. She would make sure he knew how amazing his father had been, of all his achievements, and some of his foibles, the things he liked and didn't. Ocel would grow up knowing his father as if he was breathing and living beside them. 

A loud whirring came from the north and intensified as it drew nearer.  An engine. The noise made the butterfly take flight and moments later a huge shadow crossed over the garden.

 Sarah rose and stepped out from the summerhouse glancing up as Lukha, Taril and Umrri came to get her. Lifting her eyes skyward, she was astounded to see a Horde zeppelin hovering, turning, then making it's way to the turrets of the city's Keep, home to the monarchy of Stormwind.

"That's the Regent Lord of Quel'thalas arriving," Lukha explained when she saw the bewildered expression on Sarah's face. "For today only, Horde ambassadors and those wishing to convey their condolences are welcome in the city."

"Oh," was all Sarah could muster. She was so dreading this. She wanted to grieve in private, but the world decided to pay homage to Khadgar and so it was turning out to be an enormous and stately affair. 

It was her understanding that the Kirin Tor had erected a commemorative statue in the new section of the public gardens in Stormwind. She supposed it was better the mages having used magic to construct it as opposed to masons, for it would probably have taken weeks if not months and that would have dragged out the whole sorrowful event. The statue would be unveiled at the memorial.

Lukha brought Sarah's cloak forward and draped it around her shoulders. "Shall I bring Ocel's pram?" she asked.

Sarah nodded her head. "Yes, thank you." Lukha turned and headed back to the house to prepare the pram. 

 Sarah bent down and picked up her son. He had not long been fed and changed, so she expected he would sleep soon, especially with the motion of the pram. She looked at his little face. His eyes locked on hers. Although still the infant blue, they would soon be the same steel grey of his father's. 

She felt a burning sensation in her chest and took a deep breath to combat it. Umrii placed a comforting arm around her shoulders and led her inside.

 

**_Music: SO I COULD FIND MY WAY by Enya_ **

As they neared the gardens, Sarah could hear the quiet thrum of many voices. Her heart was in her mouth, she was not equipped to deal with the magnitude of out-pouring emotions. 

 She trembled as they turned in at Cathedral Square. Although she knew Khadgar had reached out to many in his lifetime, had been well loved and respected, she still was not prepared for the numbers of mourners present. 

They filled the gardens on all sides and continued down ramps towards the harbour where they lined the docks. More still stood on balconies over-looking the gardens and atop the roofs of many surrounding buildings. 

She faltered and a steadying hand caught her elbow. She turned to see Drew at her side, a look of quiet sorrow in his eyes. She looked ahead and the crowds parted, opening an avenue for them to progress towards the enormous covered statue at the centre of the gardens.

In front of it stood King Varian with Prince Anduin on his right. A number of high ranking Alliance officials stood next to them, including King Genn Greymane, Prophet Velen of the draenei. Tyrande and Malfurion also present stood beside King of the Gnomes, High Tinker Gelbin Mekkatorque. Queen Regent Moira Thaurissan of Blackrock who hailed from the Bronzebeard clan stood beside none other than Jaina Proudmore, the one-time disgruntled leader of the Kirin Tor. The remaining members of the Six stood close by.

On the King's left, stood the Horde's delegation led by Lor'themar Theron, Regent Lord of Quel'thalas, also the brother of Tiene Firefury albeit in association only and being a close family friend of the Firefurys.  With him were his loyal advisors, Ranger-General Halduron Brightwing and Grand Magister Rommath. Standing beside them was none other than the orc Earth-Warder and World Shaman, Thrall, with his life-mate Aggra at his side. Finally, Baine Bloodhoof, High Chieftan of the Tauren. Waquro and the orcs Belmar and Hagus were also in attendance.

Most of these individuals had never met with Sarah before, yet they, like her, knew who each other were. All afforded her the mark of respect and bowed graciously as she took her place to the far right of the Alliance delegates.

Try as she might, she could not focus on the eulogies of the King of Stormwind nor the others who wished to express their deep-felt respect for Khadgar. Even with all her close friends nearby, she so desperately wanted to be away from them all. 

She noted the obvious pain Illidan felt as he stood with his head bowed throughout. There seemed to be an unbreakable bond between them, almost like twins she supposed, in that they could feel each other's pain. He was not able to look at her though, and she understood what he was thinking. Their agony was building as each minute passed.

Eventually, she was called upon to unveil the statue. She lifted Ocel into her arms as she wanted this moment to be shared with him. She held his tiny hand, and together they tugged the cord to reveal the stone image which would stand in honour of his father, the late Leader of the Kirin Tor.

 Only quiet sobbing of the masses could be heard as the huge covering fell away and landed in deep folds at the foot of the statue. Sarah's eyes scanned the sculpture, her heart swelling as she saw in minute detail the very image of the man she loved deeply. It stood regally, guarding, watching over the city and its inhabitants.   

  A short fanfare sounded and heads were lowered, all offering their sympathies in their own silent prayers.  

 

The measure of love, respect and the profound sense of loss for Archmage Khadgar was symbolized that day in the copious amount of tears shed in Stormwind by the multi-racial nations of Azeroth.  

Sarah's eyes once more travelled to the face above,  chiselled so perfectly in stone.  The stoic determination and peerless devotion to Azeroth and its people depicted in the firm jaw and creased brow was just so Khadgar.  

"Farewell, my love," she whispered, "My heart is forever yours."  She blinked slowly and her own tears then flowed with that of a grieving nation.


	31. Stolen

_**Music: Journey composed by Fridrik Karlsson** _

 

She stood in the doorway of their home. It took a herculean effort for her to put one foot over the threshold. This was the first time she had mustered enough courage to enter since returning from the Dark Portal.  She had stayed with Lukha and Taril until now enabling her to see her son, but she had not felt able enough yet, to care for him on her own.  They had kindly taken Ocel while she made this visit. 

The perpetual pain of the past few days threatened to cripple her, causing her to clutch her breast as if hoping she could somehow mend her broken heart.  Her imbued gift of the Naaru however,  could not heal  _this_ wound.  Gulping air, she pulled her other foot rather clumsily inside the hallway. The door closed behind her with a soft click. How empty the place felt. Cold. Incomplete.  She stilled, trying to steady her breathing, fighting the constant river of tears that had flowed since he was lost to her.  

Had he survived,  she had initially doubted these walls could have ever been home for the two of them again. He had become so distant, so cold. So unlike himself.  She had blamed herself initially,  feeling responsible for the change in him because she'd informed him about her "conditions".   

She tried desperately not to think of their last encounter in their home, but it was impossible. Though she knew now, it was the Void that had influenced his moods, his words, his decisions, still, wounds had been opened. 

He had listened in silence on the day of her confession, his face impassive as she'd wept.  When she'd explained everything to him, he had shirked away through to his study, closing the door.  How that had hurt.  And when he'd heard Ocel crying, his words cut even deeper. "Your son needs you," he'd said coldly.  _Your_ son. Not  _our_ son.   _Your_ son.    He'd spent the rest of that day avoiding her, then left, late in the evening,  for Dalaran.  

His silent farewell had sounded so final.  No parting kiss.  No smile.  No wave. Things did not improve when Sarah arrived in Draenor.  His steel eyes didn't warm for her, and his mouth didn't smile.  He had become a stranger.   

Perhaps if she had not gone through the portal...?  _No!!_ That was ludicrous!  Had she not, there would be nothing and no-one left on this planet now.   Illidan, Camnath, Tiene and the all the benevolent spirits from the Twisting Nether would not have united to quash the enemy and she would not be standing here now. In their home.  

Still without him.  

Still alone.

Heartbroken.

She flailed her hands in front of her face as if warding off a recurring nightmare.  Not again! The river burst its banks once more _. "No!"_  she wailed.  These black days were going to haunt her mind and break her heart for eternity.  

She had not thought it possible to hurt any more than she had before that fateful moment.   How wrong she'd been.  Her cursed endless life was going to be spent remembering  _that_ image.  Even knowing the truth towards the end, still, it had not taken away the pain of his rejection, his anger towards her.  Until that was, the greatest pain of all replaced it.  

Only once the Void had been vanquished, had the real Khadgar emerged again.   All too briefly. She closed her eyes, fighting both the tears and the image she wanted to forget. But the picture invaded her mind regardless.  His face.  His handsome, and incipiently sad face. For just a fleeting moment, she saw the Khadgar she knew and loved with all her heart.  And finally, he had  _seen_ her.  His eyes were full of love for her once more.  

Her hands suddenly clamped over her ears as she could hear herself screaming at him to move away from the pillars - to come to her, to safety.    _Forgive me_ , he had mouthed. Then, the stone and metal structure took him from her... 

_"No!_  I will  _not_  forgive you," she cried at the imprinted image of his face as it wavered relentlessly in her mind. "You stubborn fool! You didn't listen. Why did you have to go back for that stupid staff? You should have come to me!" Her hands moved to her upper arms, digging her nails in fiercely as if hoping it might overcome the pain her heart felt.  Her shoulders heaved and her voice choked as she breathed, " _I miss you._ "    

She staggered further into the house.  It was so cold.  The chill attributed to the lack of emotion within these walls. There would be no more laughter, no more frivolity, nor interesting debates or the odd heated argument, which always ended up with their blissful, loving apologies.   

As she passed the kitchen door, she glanced at the table.   _Pancakes and syrup,_  she thought.  She visualised them, half eaten, pushed aside and then Khadgar pulling her to him and loving her so sensually.  She scrunched her eyes tightly shut, the memory bittersweet.  Another sob caught in her throat. She moved onwards.

She came to an abrupt halt when she reached his study. The door as always closed. Blinking madly to clear her blurred vision, she fixated on the handle. Tentatively, she took hold of it and turned until the lock clicked open. She hesitated. She wanted to imagine him prior to that dreadful last day they both stood in the room.  So, she visualised a happier time, one where he had sat at his desk, pouring over some scroll full of runic symbols and ancient text as he munched on one of her home-made cookies; his fingers curling around the handle of his favourite mug filled with hot chocolate, which he was partial to, now and again. 

Still, she struggled to push the door open, for she knew only too well the cold harsh reality. Taking a deep breath, she forced herself to enter. A gasp escaped her when she caught the glint in his steel-coloured eyes as he looked up from his desk. He smiled just before the vision suddenly evaporated before her very eyes.  Long, smoky tendrils reached for the ceiling and beyond, stealing him from her again. Her hand flew to her mouth as she desperately tried to stifle yet another wracking sob. This was going to take forever to accept. And forever, was  _very much_  in her resume. 

Slowly, she moved into the room. Beeswax and orange-blossom on the wooden surfaces were the first smells to greet her. Still moist from tears, her eyes skimmed the shelves, crammed with books, scrolls, blueprints. She ran her fingers over the book spines as she moved round towards his desk.  Her eyes caught sight of Atiesh leaning against the bookshelves in the corner.  Drew had said he would return it for her, and so he had and placed in the most appropriate of rooms. 

Khadgar's scent suddenly filled the room, as if he had just entered. She inhaled deeply – his natural redolence, raw, earthen and utterly masculine, enhanced by the exotic scent of spiced lotus, the one and only extravagance he allowed himself. It wrapped itself around her like a shawl yet offered no comfort from her pain.

Her other hand skiffed the corner of the Ashenvale oak desk. The leather writing surface was littered with various papers, textbooks, his beloved sketches, quills, a couple of ink pots. His block of sealing wax and the Kirin Tor signet lay next to the holder with the burned down candle. Her fingers traced over it absent-mindedly, causing the signet to wobble in her path. Her eyes scanned all the other items. This was so Khadgar.  How on Azeroth did he manage to keep track of things at times, she mused.  Strange symbols loomed up from the scrolls, and words, written in his eloquent calligraphy swam before her eyes –

 

 

Her breath hitched. Her name screamed up at her. What was it doing amidst all these documents? Gently, she moved a mound of papers and scrolls aside, revealing where she had seen her name. An open book. A beautifully bound journal, in fact. 

 A memory tugged at the back of her mind. Dalaran.  It seemed such a long time ago now since she had sat on his bed in his Dalaran quarters, reading the contents of the box he had secreted away in a small recess behind the bedside table.  It was then she had discovered the man behind the serious facade.  He had a warm, deeply romantic soul, and longed for love, yet for all he had a few dalliances, he had always come away feeling guilty.   

He had written of these women with the utmost respect, fondness and sometimes an excruciating, heartfelt longing.  He spoke of them as if they were angels, his feeling of unworthiness abound - how dare he offer his admiration let alone his touch, he'd written.  

She had envied them his worship.  How she had wished to be one of those women he had written so tenderly about.  She had never confessed to reading his memoirs. It was something she could not admit to. Even after they disclosed their love for each other.

She pulled out the chair that was tucked tight to the oak desk and sat down. Her fingers slowly moved over the leather surface to the journal. As they closed around it, she felt her heart lurch. What did she now hold in her hands? Had he somehow fulfilled her unspoken wish? Did he leave it here for her to find if the unthinkable happened? Was it his parting gift?  A way perhaps, to still be with her?

Hands trembling, she flicked the pages back until she reached the start. Casting her eyes around the room, she wistfully hoped to find him standing watching her, but he was not there.  She swallowed her disappointment then lowered her eyes and started to read. It was titled -  _My Sarah_...

 

 

 

He had lovingly sketched her in pastel. She could read no more. Not yet. Fresh tears fell as she traced his words with her fingertips, a smudge appearing in the ink. Her pain had just increased tenfold. Her heart was constricting, causing real pain in her chest.

Anger suddenly gripped her.  She slammed the journal closed.  _"Why?"_  she cried out hoping he could hear and feel her anguish.  Scraping the chair back loudly, she stood, fingers fanned on the desk surface. "If I meant so goddamn much to you,  _why_ did you leave me to live this miserable existence alone? You should be standing here beside me!   _Damn you_  Khadgar! Why did you not come to me when I called?"   

In a fit of fury, she swept her arm across the desk knocking everything from its surface, screaming as she did so, eyes blinded by tears.  From the corner of her eye, she noticed the journal teetering on the edge of the desk.  She stretched to the side and thrust out her hands just in time preventing it from hitting the floor.  Straightening she clasped it to her chest. Possessive. 

Again, she found herself battling to keep from drowning in her sorrow. Surely her body could not maintain such copious amounts of tears to be shed every few minutes. And the pain she felt. Pain like no other!  It was unrelenting, deeply embedded, entrenched within her soul, at least in the part which remained in her body.  It would be a pain that she would bear for an unimaginable length of time.  

Furthermore, she was astutely aware she would have to contend with not only her own grief but that of the whole world.  Having reached out and helped so many, in varying degrees, his name was legendary.  The inevitable on-going words of comfort, support and shared sorrow would be offered, some of which had already been endured with the memorial having just ended. It all added to her already crushing personal agony.  

The prospect was daunting. How she desperately wished she could return to Earth, even for a few days, by which time months would have passed in Azeroth, and everyone else's grieving would have eased, leaving her to contend with her own. But, that could never be.  The consequence of her returning to Earth would be her own demise. She felt even more trapped now that Khadgar was not here to keep her company during at least some of her perdurable lifetime. And lonely. So intolerably lonely.

The effort to stave off the intense grief was draining her. So much so, Lukha and Umrii had kindly offered to continue helping with Ocel as she was incapable of giving him all the love and attention he needed just now. She knew she had to pull herself together though. He was, after all, the living, breathing embodiment of Khadgar and the beautiful reification of the love they had shared. She would not fail him in being a devoted mother to their son, she just needed time to try and heal sufficiently in order to be all she could be for him.  At that moment, it seemed a long way away.

With a deep sigh, she left his study and moved towards their bedroom. Part of her dreaded entering this room more than any other. The room where he always made her feel safe, warm and loved beyond any doubt.  The room where they also indulged in childish frivolity such as the pillow fight when she had launched one at him for commenting on the size of her bottom as she was putting away their laundered clothing.  The ghosts of their fight greeted her as she entered the room.  A small trace of a smile played on her lips as she watched the feathers fly everywhere.  Laughter ensued from them, both ducking as the other swung their pillow.  Then, casting his ruined pillow to the floor, he'd scooped her up and spun her around, before planting a loving kiss on her lips.  A wave of his hand and the feathers vanished.  With her wrapped in his arms, he'd pulled her down onto the bed,  his intention clear -  then they too, simply vanished. 

Her eyes moved to the wardrobe and chests of drawers. She would have to face the clearing of his things. It was impossible to contemplate removing items that belonged to him, in effect, erasing him.  No, that task would have to wait, but she was drawn to the large closet regardless. Placing the journal on the pillow that was on his side of the bed, she crossed the room and stood in front of the wardrobe. As she pulled open the doors, his scent spilt out, washing over her again, surrounding her.  It stirred many simultaneous memories all of which went tumbling, spinning and dancing around the room.  He was all around; inside, next to, above – everywhere!  She breathed him, tasted him - wept him.

Staggering back over to the bed, she lay down and curled into a foetal position.  How was she meant to carry on now? How was she supposed to function? Her world had been ripped from her.  She curled herself up tighter until she could grow no smaller.  After a few minutes, her glazed eyes fixed on the journal that lay, unassuming, on his pillow.

Images of him still floated around the room, brushing against her, caressing her cheek then spinning away to the other side before returning to repeat the dance again. " _Sarah_." She heard him whisper her name. Her eyes met his ethereal ones. The steel orbs looked at her adoringly, drinking her in, absorbing her as he used to do.

" _Sleep, Sarah_ ," his image whispered tenderly. " _I will be here when you wake."_ His ghostly fingers combed through her hair and traced over her shoulders.

She clasped the journal to her. "No, my love.  You won't." She answered with a subdued sob. "For you have been stolen from me."   She was not ready to face this existence alone - it was too soon.  As her tears soaked into the pillows, she whispered,  "If your spirit can hear me, please come back to me. I don't care how. Just,  _please,_ come home!"

 


	32. Another Sacrifce

 

**_Music: BECAUSE YOU WERE THERE  composed by Soren Sabet Sarvestany_ **

 

The back of the chamber was dark, pitch. Within its black shroud, two demonised individuals stood.  They looked out across the harsh landscape of Mardum, through the forged window that spanned the length of the chamber at its far end.  Rivers of luminous fel crept their way through crevices and fissures driven into the barren land and bled over unforgiving, craggy mountains.  This sulphur infused land, home to the demon hunters would soon cease to be so for the two individuals standing in the shadows.

They awaited their judge and jury. The Naaru. Only beings of a higher power could grant an immortal release from its amaranthine existence, an end to the longevity which some viewed as a punishment and fewer still as a gift.  Having endured over ten thousand years, much of which he had spent incarcerated, Illidan Stormrage was ready to embrace his death.  

Certainly, prior to the days before the onslaught of the Void, Illidan had been taking measure of his life. His recent accomplishments and therefore the completion of his crusade, posed the question, was he now surplus to requirement? His answer came with the demise of a dear friend. 

The loss of Khadgar had weighed heavily on his conscience, never more so than the day before, when he attended his memorial.  Although the Archmage had only entered his circle but a few short months before, he had nonetheless come to value the man's friendship, wisdom and knowledge.  He admired Khadgar's leadership qualities, having taken time to familiarize himself with the past deeds and achievements of the man, as well as having been privy to more recent events.   

His failure to reach him in time before the portal had collapsed, was the deciding factor in his needing to end his own life.  He could not bring himself to face Sarah following the service for the Archmage, for in his failure to save the man, he had failed her too.  He was wrought with guilt.  

Without these two people, he would not have been rescued from the Vault in the Broken Isles, he would not have aided in the defeat of the Burning Legion nor would he have been instrumental in the battle with the Void.  Quite simply, without them, he would not be.  And so, he had made his decision, and contacted the Naaru, requesting they fulfil his wish. He felt it fitting to offer himself as another sacrifice.

Considering it was something which would not have been possible had the spirits from the Twisting Nether not empowered the land with their light, it was somewhat ironic that having assisted in their rebirth, Illidan now needed the Naaru to erase him from the planet.  

The light which had erupted from the clash between spirits and the Void had reached beyond the skies of Azeroth. Once the spirits were riven from their existence, their sacrifice gave life once more to a dying race - the Naaru. From beyond the reach of the Void, the celestial beings had made their way to the planet to aid in the final assault on the Lords of shadow.  

So now,  they sought out the one who had been prophesied as the saviour of Azeroth.  He had done what was expected of him. He had fulfilled his role after centuries of persecution, derision, hatred, and imprisonment.  They had heard his plea and they would award him accordingly.  Now it was time for his suffering to end.

On the upper ramp,  Kayn waited. His orders were to remain there until the deed was done. Illidan had named him as his successor. He had followed Illidan for almost fourteen years and believed in him utterly,  knowing from the outset that his goal was to defeat the Burning Legion.  He had watched him deal with blow after blow from his own people, the night elves, and also all those of both horde and alliance affiliation. His admiration had only grown as he witnessed how Illidan never wavered from his path and even later, as he learned of his infusion from the Naaru and their prophecy, Kayn's loyalty remained absolute.  

The one-time blood elf had objected to being named Illidan's successor to begin with, pleading that Illidan rethink his decision and stating that he felt unworthy of such an honour.  In Kayn's mind, there was only ever going to be one Lord of The Demon Hunters and that was Illidan himself.  But the Stormrage brother was unshakable.  He assured Kayn that he was more than capable of being a strong and powerful leader.  Finally, Kayn accepted, albeit with a deep-felt sorrow. 

The Illidari would remain as warriors and defenders of Azeroth, but Illidan himself was tired, weary of it all, he wanted, nay,  _ached for_  release.  So now, with the arrival of his executioners imminent, Illidan stood, poised, tall, proud and ready for the end.  He clasped the hand beside him. Arcaena. Utter devotion to the end,  she had opted to join him.   He tried to dissuade her, saying she had much to offer Azeroth and her impeccable fighting skills would be invaluable to Kayn.  But, she would not rescind her decision. She had said life without him was no life at all.

Turning their runecloth covered sockets to the window at the far side of the chamber, Illidan and Arcaena watched as finally, the Naaru approached. Their heavenly light trailed behind them through the night sky as they floated towards the fortress that had become home to the demon hunters, The Fel Hammer.  Arcaena's hand tightened around Illidan's. He turned his head to look at her. Darkness did not hinder his sight. "You have time to change your mind," he said softly.

Her breath caught a little. "No, Illidan. I am with you to the end, and beyond."

The mighty demon hunter smiled and after a moment he spoke again. "Thank you, Arcaena."

"For what?"

"For believing in me.  And for loving me."

Arcaena laughed a little, although he heard a suppressed sob in her voice. Tightening her fingers around his again, she quietly said, "Oh it could have been so very different, my love, had I killed you in Hellfire."

At that Illidan laughed. "Indeed. Or had Arthas finished me..."

Arcaena threw her arms around him, silencing him with a kiss. He pulled her close. She buried her head against his shoulder.

"Arcaena..."

"No! Do not speak of it. I will not change my mind. I cannot exist without you."

His embrace tightened. Since she had awakened to the true path he had taken and understood him and all he had strived for, he had always known she loved him, but it wasn't until now that he realised just how fierce that love was. He was certain, that if he could weep, his eyes would be moist at that moment. "I love you, with all of my black heart," he said, his breath caressing her ear.

"Your heart was never black Illidan, merely misunderstood. And, for the record, I love you too,  _my Lord_." Her voice faded to a wounded whisper.

The chamber was then filled with golden light. The couple disengaged from their embrace and stood, hand in hand to face their final minutes.

Five Naaru shimmered and wavered before them. Their gossamer appearance was calming and of unequalled beauty. Each a different colour, amethyst, silver, chartreuse, cyan and their leader, gold. Their soft crystal song filled the chamber.

_"Welcome,"_  Illidan spoke with his mind.

_"It is strange to be welcomed under such circumstances,"_  the leader of the Naaru replied.

Illidan laughed lightly, a hint of vexation in its sound. Arcaena looked at him questioningly.  _"I dare say it is. May I ask that my wife hears this conversation too?"_

_"As you wish."_

Illidan nodded thanks before turning to Arcaena. "You will be part of this my love. Communicate with your mind, they will hear you."

Again, she tightened her fingers around his. She looked towards the celestial beings.  _"I-I do not know what to call you,"_ she transmitted.

_"I am E'the,"_  the leading Naaru informed them.  _"My brethren are C'eles, Aerel, Charis, and Gu'ya."_ Each being shimmered when they were introduced, so the demon hunters knew which one was which.

_"So, E'the. Have you considered my –"_ A tug from Arcaena corrected him _._ With a winsome smile, he finished, _"-_ our  _request?"_

The Naaru's light flared slightly and the chimes intensified for a moment.  _"We have, Illidan Stormrage. We have consulted with another and we have reached our decision. Your request is granted."_

Up at the top of the ramp, his lieutenant waited nervously.  Behind him, demon hunters lined the Fell Hammer all the way to the entrance,  each and every one of them aware of their leader's decision.  They would honour his wish that Kayn succeeds him, and swore to follow the blood elf as loyally as they had Illidan himself.  It was nonetheless with heavy hearts and unmitigated respect that they awaited the moment their esteemed leader drew his last breath.

In the bottom chamber, Illidan and Arcaena prepared themselves for their last moments.

_"We have to inform you Illidan and Arcaena Stormrage, that this will be final and binding."_

_"That is what we wish,"_  Illidan responded, inclining his horned head in respect.

_"Very well. Before carrying out the sentence, I must convey our gratitude. In expelling the Void, you enabled us to exist in greater numbers again. However, know this, there will always be shadow where there is light."_

_"This I know. But my time is over. I have ensured a valiant and honourable leader will take my place. It has been a very long ten thousand years and I am...weary."_

_"We understand. You have fought valiantly, for the most part, Illidan. You lost your way for a while, and I admit your true intentions were questioned by us as well as your own people. But, it was the mortal Sarah who saw the good in you and became the catalyst in all this. She will remain the one who can aid the world when required."_

The demon hunter stepped forward _. "She has lost much,"_ Illidan said, his voice betraying a tremor in its timbre.  _"I beg you do_ not  _put all the onus on her. Utilise my people."_

All five Naaru flared, their chimes all resounding in one sweet chorus.  _"Sarah will be fine, Illidan. She is strong. Stronger than you know."_

_"Hmm."_ Illidan considered.   He had no doubt she would be strong again,  but at this moment in time, she suffered greatly.   He felt such deep sympathy and tenacious remorse,  torn between remaining to aid her in her fate, or relieving her of his debilitating presence.  The latter he decided, was the kinder of the two.  " _May I ask something else?"_ His voice still trembled.Arcaena stepped beside her husband. She could tell this was difficult for him.

_"Ask."_ E'the said.

_"When – when the spirits dispersed, did you sense him?  Khadgar, I mean?"_

_The celestial chimes tinkled for a moment as if the Naaru were silently consulting with each other over such a delicate question. "I am sorry," E'the replied,  "it is not something I can answer. Understand, there were hundreds of thousands of spirits, and once they quashed the Void, they fragmented as one.  It is impossible, even for us, to sense a particular spirit from all those involved."_

Illidan lowered his head. His chest heaved. It had not been what he had hoped to hear, but the Naaru's explanation was credible.  _"I understand,"_  he replied.  _"Promise me you will ensure Sarah and her son are looked after though. At least as best as you can intervene."_

_"That we will."_

Illidan looked towards the ramp. He knew Kayn would be waiting nervously, preparing to carry out his and Arcaena's bodies after the deed was done. He turned then to his wife. "Are you ready then, my love?"

She nodded, taking his hand in both of hers. He leaned down and gave her a final loving kiss. He looked back at E'the. Taking a deep breath, he spoke, ensuring his voice was heard by Kayn. "We are ready. Do it now."    

The Naaru started to pulse, their light strengthening with each beat. Soon the chamber was blinding, awash with light.  The rays stretched out through the window across the fel-encrusted landscape, making the Fel Hammer a sparkling beacon in the darkened sky.  Beams snaked their way up the ramp and to the farther reaches of the structure bleeding into every crack and crevice of its stone walls.  All who bore witness to the phenomenon held their breath.   

 

**_Music: DESTINY OF THE CHOSEN - Immediate_**       

The beings who had once imbued him with the gift of their light now took Illidan's life.  Another sacrifice for the good of Azeroth?  But it was one that many could not fathom.  Why after all he had suffered and all he achieved since would the Naaru agree to his being erased?  A powerful leader, who many had flocked to follow, and who had valiantly led them all to victory. 

They knew he was dying, they could hear their master's harrowing roars and Arcaena's piercing screams. His Illidari had not expected to hear their suffering, they had hoped it would be quick and silent.  It seemed that the demise of their leader was a lengthy and torturous act. 

The song chimes of the Naaru echoed around the Fel Hammer, intensifying as if trying to block out the agonising sounds of the demon hunters in the chamber below.   All those within the building's confines were motionless,  fighting their inner battle of profound sorrow.    

Finally, after the light lessened along with the chimes, many Illidari were heard to be sobbing, some had fallen to their knees out of respect or grief, while others still, clung to each other trying to offer comfort.  The Lord of the Demon Hunters, Illidan Stormrage, had fallen silent.

Kayn was gulping air, trying with all his might to remain composed as one of the Naaru floated up the ramp to let him know it was done. He nodded and turned to beckon eight others. Following the celestial, they slowly made their way down to the once more darkened chamber. Only one other Naaru remained, E'the.  Turning at the bottom of the ramp with the eight demon hunters following, Kayn made his way to the centre of the chamber. He ordered the others to continue to the back and claim the bodies of their late master and his bride.

They moved in unison.  Suddenly they halted. Something lurked within the gloom. They glanced back at Kayn; confused, uncertain.  He stepped forward, apprehensively, his attention drawn to the back of the chamber.  

He could see an imprint in the darkness. It was an outline of a figure, tall, strong, hair flowing in the aftermath of the Naaru's force.  From the gloom, two bright specks appeared, glowing, magnifying, moving towards him.  Kayn held his breath. A moment later he stumbled backwards in utter disbelief.  

Illidan Stormrage emerged from the gloom. But, he was no longer a demon hunter. He was pure night elf; still strong and muscular but minus all the abnormalities which the demonic persona had dealt him for millennia. And once more, he possessed eyes of molten amber.

From behind Illidan a female night elf appeared. Her eyes were wide, vibrant. She stared at her hands, then her legs, touching her torso, her face, forehead. She spun around as if trying to see behind herself.  Then her eyes turned to the demon hunters in front of her. They moved aside as she walked towards Kayn. "It's me!" she said excitedly. "Arcaena!"

Kayn took a step back. "Arcaena?" he said, uncertain.

"Yes! Look at me, Kayn." She held up her hands and again touched her forehead. She started to laugh.  She turned, catching sight of Illidan, who looked equally astounded at the turn of events. Clasping her hands to her face, Arcaena laughed out loud, then it was followed by a sob, and then another one.  She ran to her husband. "I don't understand," she said.  She was inspecting his hands, his feet, his head. She ran around him. All that was demonic had vanished. Both inspected each other closely, the look of wonder written clearly on their faces.

"Neither do I!" Illidan said, his amber eyes wide and bright. The demon hunters all knelt in front of him. "No!" he said. "No, I am not your Lord anymore. Kayn is your leader." When he looked over at Kayn, he too was kneeling. "Get up Kayn!" Illidan said. "You do not bow to me anymore."

The former lieutenant rose. He inadvertently clamped his hand to his chest. Arcaena giggled.

Illidan took a moment then looked at the Naaru.  _"We asked for an ending..."_

_"And that is what you have been granted Illidan Stormrage."_

_"No, you do not understand..."_

_"It is_ you  _who do not understand. I told you we consulted with another. They asked for this to be both your ending and your beginning."_

Illidan shook his head. Arcaena clasped his hand. He looked at her questioningly. She nodded back, she could still hear the Naaru.

_"Who would ask this?"_ Illidan questioned E'the.

_"The one whose life you once saved. She remembered that you had done this very thing for a demon hunter called Tiene, and asked us to perform the same act of kindness on you and Arcaena. Her faith in you is unshakable, Illidan. "_

_"_ Sarah  _asked this of you? You consulted with_ her _?"_ Illidan said in disbelief.

_"Yes. She knew you blamed yourself for Khadgar's loss. Sarah argues that claim. She thought you may want a way out, so she spoke with us the day before you did. We then confirmed her fears._

_"You said yourself Illidan, she has lost much. She does not want to lose you and Arcaena as well. She values your advice and foresight and considers you as her friends with whom she hopes to journey through the years with. Besides, you were and still are a great sorcerer. "_

_"What?"_ He was still dumbstruck by the whole thing. Arcaena tugged on his arm. He looked down at her. Her face said it all. She was ecstatic. His mouth broke into a smile.

_"Enjoy your life Illidan. You are not done yet by a long shot. Now you will rise to greatness as the sorcerer you once were, if indeed not greater still. You also harnessed the powers of a mage, but then, you never were one to be restricted._ _Your powers will be required soon enough._ _I bid you farewell."_

Without waiting for a response the Naaru left, hurtling into the dark beyond.

 

_**Music: TRUE LOVE ALWAYS by Audiomachine** _

He glanced around him. The demon hunters were still kneeling. "Get up! All of you," he said, exasperated. "I am not your leader. Kayn here  _is_." He strode over to his former lieutenant and planted a firm hand on his shoulder.  The lieutenant whimpered, the corners of his mouth twitching. "Now, all of you go and do, whatever –  _Kayn_ tells you to do."  He laughed whole-heartedly at his own words and moved back to stand beside Arcaena.  His situation was finally starting to click into place. He then seemed to have an afterthought. "Kayn," he said, turning to face the still motionless and stunned looking demon hunter.

"Yes, my Lord," Kayn replied automatically.

Illidan smirked. Holding up his hand he pointed to the new leader of the Illidari. " _You_ are going to have to get out of that habit," he smiled, fangs glinting in the low light of the chamber.

"Yes, my L –" The former lieutenant was becoming oddly more flustered.

Illidan shook his head. Seemed it would take time for all to adjust. "I was going to ask, may we stay here, just for tonight?"

Kayn cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably. "Of course! You may stay as long as you wish. Illidan." He bowed with heartfelt respect.

The night elf nodded, pleased. "Thank you."

Kayn signalled for the demon hunters to move back up the ramp, he followed after them, pausing long enough to look back at his former Lord and leader.  

As his shape disappeared, Illidan turned to Arcaena, grinning. He stroked her cheek, marvelling at how her skin felt now his fingers were no longer scaly nor taloned.  "I see he still likes you. Probably more so now."  He ran his fingers through the ends of her hair, before his hand cupped the back of her neck, drawing her to him. His amber eyes blazed with carnal intent.

Arcaena guffawed. Illidan's brow creased. "What?" he asked.

"Even with your amber eyes you  _still_ cannot see the obvious?"

Illidan looked quizzically at her.

Arcaena's familiar lop-sided smile stretched her mouth as she started to undo the sash around his waist.  "It was never me he hungered for, Illidan.  It was you!"

 


	33. Within The Pages

**_Music: DARK WALTZ performed by Haley Westenra_ **

 

She spun around. Where was she?  The sensation of floating, bobbing, drifting, enveloped her. It was relaxing, hypnotic, seductive.  Her eyes opened to reveal she was within a river of effervescent matter.  Turning again, she saw beyond the boundaries of her empyrean confines.  Stars, planets, swirling galaxies, against a landscape of silent blackened skies.  

She was ... something, yet also nothing, within a current which flowed, rippled and shimmered. Glancing down she could not see anything of herself. How could this be?  Suddenly, this was no longer a pleasant experience.  She could see, and sense, yet she did not exist? 

Spinning herself around again, she felt fear rising.  And, where was everyone else?  There was no-one.  _Nothing_ else.  She was alone.  Her non-existent heart started to beat loudly, it's rapid cadence echoing throughout the shimmering flow.  " _Hello? Is there anyone here_?" she felt her lips move yet no sound came forth,  the words formed only in her mind. Her plea sounded desperate nonetheless.

_"I am here."_  A voice spoke softly.  " _Always here."  His_ voice. 

She spun again, but still, no-one.  She heard her heart beat faster. " _Where are you?_ " she called.

     " _I am beside you_ ," came his reply.

Again she turned, more frantic, anxious.  In frustration, her invisible eyes shed their spectral tears. " _I cannot see you_ ," she sobbed.  

The familiar sensation of his arms around her waist instantly calmed her, even though he remained obscure, invisible, as did she.  In a ghostly dance, he led her through the realm of the Twisting Nether.  They floated upon a shimmering, golden path which underwent a subtle change in hue, taking it through the spectrum and back again, before it repeated its polychromatic pattern.  Their movements were as fluid as their surroundings, gentle, unbroken, surreal.   " _You do not need to see me to know I am with you_ ," he said, lovingly.  He changed direction, waltzing her back from whence they came.  

     " _But I_ want  _to see you_ ," she whispered. " _I want to_ touch  _you._ "  Once more he spun her away, the feel of his invisible embrace guiding her, sweeping her around in circles, the fluency never breaking.  Smooth, graceful, beautiful.   

     " _Perhaps one day..._ " he said.

     " _Soon?_ " she interrupted, almost pleading.  A split second later more questions filled her mind. " _But_ ,  _you will begin life again as a child, a mere boy.  H_ _ow long will  I have to wait until I can know you again?    Will you look the same? Will you know_ me _?_ "

His voice delivered a gentle laugh.  " _We will always know each other, Sarah._   _Until that day, however, look for me within the pages, for there I abide.  And I am alive in your heart, just as you are in mine._ "  Without warning, she felt him disengage from her.

     " _No!_ " she cried. Her effervescent arms flailing in front of her " _Come back. Stay with me._ "

     " _You will find me in your journal._ _Go home, my love._ _All is not lost."_  His voice trailed off into the distance.

     " _Khadgar!_ "

     " _I am with you. Always,_ " he responded his voice now a mere whisper.  

Sorrow engulfed her.  She felt the ghostly beat of her heart start to fade. She was withering, dwindling, until only one ... beat ... remained...

She inhaled, gulping in air, the pain in her chest sharp, cutting,  bringing her abruptly awake. She pushed herself up, back hard against the headboard.  Even realising it was but a dream, her rapid breathing still did not slow immediately.  

The bedroom door opened and in walked Lukha. Her face filled with concern when she saw Sarah bolt upright, her eyes wide. "Sarah! What is the matter?" The young draenei crossed to the bed and sat on its edge. Automatically she reached out and took Sarah's hands.

Her concern and unending kindness, helped Sarah to gradually relax.  "It is nothing to worry about," she said, although her face said differently. "It was just a dream. I'm fine."

     "Are you sure?"

     "Yes, quite sure."  A need to yawn came over her. She removed a hand from Lukha's gentle hold and raised it to her mouth.  She smiled apologetically.  "I should not be yawning, I slept well."

Lukha smiled. 

     "And I have made a decision, " Sarah continued quickly.  "I'll move back home today." 

     "Only if you feel ready, Sarah. There is no hurry.  You are welcome to stay here as long as you need."

Sarah smiled and placed a reassuring hand on Lukha's. "I know.  But, I intended to move back once I had made that initial step the other day."  She looked at the young draenei seeing the unspoken questions in her eyes.   "I will be fine, Lukha.  It was ... excruciatingly difficult, when I went home just after the memorial service.  But, yesterday, somehow, it was a little easier. I think I realised that, at home, he is still with me. I know he is no longer with us physically, but I'm not willing to let go yet.  I can feel his presence there in the little things like ... his favourite mug, his favoured vintage, his cologne, all his pens, pencils, crayons which he loved for his sketching,  Atiesh of course, and his study, which is a real treasure-trove of all that made him the incredible, powerful, devoted mage he was.

     "It will still take time, I know, but if I do not return now, I will only find it harder to do so later. I will miss Khadgar  _forever_ , but I  _have to_  function, and I have to do right by our son. He should be in his own home with his own things."

The young draenei nodded. "I understand."

Sarah had always appreciated Lukha's kindness, but it wasn't until recently she truly realised the friendship that draenei offered too.  It helped her face an uncertain future with a little more credence.  The draenei leaned forward and gave her a friendly hug. "I will let you get dressed, and then come and have breakfast."

Sarah nodded, and Lukha left her to get ready.

   ** _Music: FOR THE MAN I LOVED by Karliene_**    

It was strange, how only two days before, she had dreaded stepping over the threshold of her home. Now, having spent her first night in her own bed, she felt strangely at peace.  Ocel, although he had never displayed any signs of discomfort or agitation while they stayed with Lukha and Taril,  seemed more...content, somehow.  She looked lovingly at him as he chortled in his baby chair, cooing at the little mobile which dangled from the carry handle.  She sat in the old easy chair in front of the big open window, and let the warm breeze wash over her.  She pulled her feet up to the side and rested the journal Khadgar had written about her, on her thigh. 

With her fingers caressing the embossed leather, she marvelled at the beautifully bound book which was filled with the words of the man she loved, and it was all about how much  _he_ loved  _her_.  " _Look for me within the pages, for there I abide,"_  he had said in the dream.  Smiling she opened the book and started from where she had left off, the day she had discovered it.

Only stopping to tend to Ocel and grab a bite to eat for herself, she spent most of that day absorbing his words.  From the time of his torment as he had secreted her away in his quarters in Dalaran, she read how Vindicator Ocel had told him he should not fight what he felt for her.  She smiled as she read about his agitation, finding her with the elf in the inn,  _A Hero's Welcome._ He made her relive the argument they had in the streets as she stormed off to his apartment, threatening to move in with Tassarion.  Then the night she led him to her chambers in the keep and loved him for the first time.  Her eyebrows raised at some of his detail, but she smiled warmly.

She felt her heart fracturing again, however, when she read of the pain he felt when he had ordered her sent home through the rift.  She had expected his account to have skipped forward to when she returned, but it did not. Instead, it described in detail, his inner anguish, his agony, his feeling of excruciating loss during the time she was gone from Azeroth.  

He spoke of seeing her face every day, of smelling her perfume, imagining the touch of her soft skin in the hazy moments before he woke each day.  If she had ever doubted how much this man had loved her, then now she knew with utter certainty, he loved her truly, madly, deeply as no other ever had, nor likely ever would again.

By the time nightfall came round, she was almost three-quarters of the way through the journal. She had, however, ensured their son was fed, bathed changed and laid down to sleep before she continued with her reading into the night.  It was like a classic, a definite  _couldn't-put-it-down_  story.  There was also much laughter in some of his words, moments of hilarity, silliness and comic timing. 

The mood darkened a little, however, as she approached the time of the pending assault by the Void.  There he had voiced his fears of inadequacy, a dread that he would be incapable of protecting his precious family.  He voiced too, that he sensed negative thoughts entering his mind, anger, bitterness but above all... fear.  

Then his last series of entries.  She sobbed openly as she recalled their feud in the camps the night before the battle began.  She felt so guilty to have used the word "cursed" when she said she loved him.  But, she was blessed with the knowledge that even when she had thought him lost to her, his love had shone through in the most sacred of ways.  Here it was, penned for all eternity, to take with her through the years.

There was still a few pages remaining, but she was weary and decided to wait until the morn to continue.  Leaving the book open on the sideboard, she padded her way to bed, feeling warm, safe and above all loved, even though he was gone from the world.

 

      "I hope ye dinnae mind lass, but ah thought ye might appreciate a wee bit time tae yersel'," Gwen said.  The dwarf had come knocking quite early, hoping to take Ocel for a walk. She loved pushing the pram, and Sarah got the impression there was perhaps a little dream there for Gwen.  As it was, she had no problems at all allowing her to take Ocel out for a jaunt.  "It'll be good for the lad too," Gwen carried on obviously feeling the need to justify her wanting to take the babe  a walk.   

Sarah finished getting Ocel dressed and into the pram.  "It's quite alright Gwen, you may take him for  a walk anytime you wish, providing I am not away with him already, myself."

     "Oh, ah'm fair chuffed ye feel that way lass.  I dae sae love the wee sowl."

     "Well, he's been fed and changed so he should be fine for a good while yet."

     "Wid jist efter lunchtime be a'right wi' ye? Ah've a grand walk I'd like tae tak' him."

Sarah smiled. "Of course it's alright. I have included a little bottle of flavoured water for him, should he get thirsty."

     "Lovely. Right! Ah'll be oan ma' way then.  Enjoy yer mornin'."

The moment Gwen was out the door, Sarah rushed back to the living room and picked up the journal.  

Khadgar had expressed how deeply ashamed he felt for not having supported, comforted her with the news of her being unable to have more children.  This was a painful read for her, but it also helped to know he had not dismissed it as she had thought.  He said that he knew there was no way he could feel the pain she must be feeling about this, but, he wanted her to know it would never change how he felt about her.  The fact she had given him a miracle in Ocel, was so much more than he ever thought he would be blessed with.  

He promised that all going well after this battle, he would ensure that she and their son, would know without a doubt that they were treasured, precious and more than he could ever have hoped for. She needed to take a moment or two after reading that. She toyed with pouring some wine, but decided it was indeed too early for that, and so settled for a cup of honey mint tea instead.

He wrote of her immortality.  Again, he assured her it would never make him love her any less. He hoped to love her so much during his lifetime, that when the time came for him to depart, she would forever know that the love which he felt for her was eternal, everlasting, as immortal as she was herself.

At that point, she needed to stop.  How could something so beautiful and heartfelt, be so unbearable at the same time?  She was oddly relieved to hear someone at her door.  Placing the journal on the sideboard she went to answer it.

A slow smile crept across her face as she was greeted by a beautiful night elf. Her hair, darkest blue, eyes shining silver and the famous lop-sided smile was all it took for Sarah to know exactly who this female was.  "Arcaena!" she said enthusiastically, opening her arms to embrace her.  

The night elf happily fell into her arms. "Thank you!" she whispered. "Thank you, very much."

     "Oh, my friend, you are  _so_ welcome, it was the least I could do. And I confess, a little selfishness on my part. I just didn't want to lose either of you."

As they embraced, the seven and a half foot frame of Illidan leaned up against the door frame.  Sarah was astounded by him. Apart from the fact he was a striking male, the legendary amber eyes were quite unlike anything she had seen before. "My!" she said merrily. "Don't  _you_ brush up well!"  They all laughed heartily. Illidan hugged Sarah, he too thanking her for the gift she had asked the Naaru to bestow upon them. "Please, please come in!" she said.  

She almost closed the door, when the sound of someone clearing their throat stopped her.  On pulling the door open wide again, she was met by Drew and Bernie, Mel and Mick. "Oh my god!" She smiled. "Come in, all of you." She hugged Drew tightly, her best friend, who she almost lost and had never really shown how relieved she was that he had survived.  

She felt tears threatening.  Such was the over-flowing emotions caused by Khadgar's journal and seeing her friends all safe, and others somewhat transformed. She welcomed Bernie like a sister, knowing unquestionably, that Drew was happy with her.  Another hug went to Mel. He seemed a little awkward but she assured him he was welcome and gestured for him to follow the others through to the living room.  

Mick stopped directly in front of her.  There was a slightly difficult moment, but he approached it rather well. "I am - grateful you stood on my balls," he grinned, a tad sheepishly.

Sarah could not suppress her own grin. "Well, they better be big, because I'm watching you and if you misbehave again, next time I'll dig the heel in."

     "Well, they're not that big, but they  _are_ important to me," he smiled.  With that, they both laughed and Sarah showed him through to the living room.

She moved through to the kitchen having offered some refreshments, Bernie went with her to help.  As they put together a tray of glasses and simple snacks, Sarah was suddenly compelled to say something.  She took Bernie's hand, making the redhead look at her.  "Be good to him.   _Promise_ me," she said.

Bernie was slightly taken aback. "I will be," she replied. "I think the world of him."

     "Good! He deserves that. He is a good man."

     "I know." The two women studied each other for a few moments.

     "Sarah," a voice from the doorway. They looked up and there was the man himself.  His face kindly, happy, but a sadness still swam in his eyes. 

Bernie took the tray. "I'll see to these and let you two have  a moment."

     "Thank you," Sarah said.  Bernie stopped beside Drew and planted a small kiss on his cheek. His mouth split into a smile and he kissed her forehead then whispered something only she could hear.  Bernie nodded and left the kitchen.

Drew walked over to Sarah and gently took her hands in his.  He took a deep breath before he came straight to the point. "We've come to say goodbye," he said.  Her fingers curled a little tighter around his. "I wish we could stay longer, Sarah, but..."

     "I know," Sarah replied, a slight hitch in her voice.  She had indeed known this was coming and soon too, but still, it was hard. "You all have commitments, jobs to go to, lives to live, it's alright I understand."

     "Yeah, but ..." It was hurting him, leaving when everything was still so fresh, so raw. He shook his head. "I wish I had never introduced you to World of Warcraft Sarah, then you would not be going through all this pain."

She pulled him closer. "Do not think that way Drew.  My life is complete by being here. I found a love which I never thought even existed. Although he is gone, what we felt for each other lives on.  And I have his son; a beautiful baby boy who also enriches my life. To have never been here and experience what I have, is unthinkable now. So please, never regret it."

Drew sighed. He was still hurting. "It's just that ..."

     "Don't worry. I also have Arcaena, Illidan, Erik, Gwen, Lukha and Taril. I am not without friends, Drew. I will be fine."

The corners of his mouth twitched, a hint of a smile. The others had made their way quietly into the kitchen. Drew acknowledged them with a glance over his shoulder. He dug into his jeans pocket and produced the sargerite and fel-blood crystal. "Okay, Sarah. Well then, if you don't mind, rather than prolong the agony, we will make our way home now," he said. She nodded. "May I?" he asked, seeking her permission to use the crystal indoors.

     "Of course," she replied, her voice a little weak. She moved back to give him room.

He knelt, touching the crystal to the ground then sweeping it up in an oval. A portal burst into life, its watery centre shimmering and rippling. First through was Mel, who thanked Sarah and wished her well. Next Mick, he afforded her a slightly awkward hug to which she playfully skiffed his still-pathetic coif. Then Bernie. She hugged Sarah for a long time, whispering that she would be in her thoughts and wishing her and Ocel happier times. 

Finally, only Drew remained. The two friends could not disguise their sadness, and fell into a tearful hug. "Missing you already!" She managed with a sob.

     "Me too," he replied, equally tearful. Then after a few moments, he pulled back. "Now, you concentrate on that little boy, love him with all you have." He turned to face the portal.

She was reluctant to let him go and tugged on his sleeve. "You  _will_ visit again, won't you?"

     "Of course I will," he replied, vexed that she felt the need to ask. "May I bring Bernie?"

     "Bring Bernie and Mel and Mick too if they wish. But no others Drew, please."

He smirked. "Don't worry, we have vowed between our four selves that we will never divulge the secret. Maybe next time I will bring a football for Ocel, he might be big enough to play in the garden by then."

She smiled and nodded, then hesitantly, let him go. "Bye, Drew."

     "See you, Sarah. Take care now." Then he stepped over the portal threshold and disappeared within its watery centre.  She flinched as the whoosh and pop signified its closure.

 

**_Music: UNDER GREY SKIES by Kamelot_ **

Her eyes drifted to the doorway, where Arcaena looked on with sad eyes. Her lop-sided smile twitching. Behind her stood Illidan. He seemed preoccupied with something. At the pinch of Sarah's brows and her attempting to look past Arcaena, the female elf stood aside. Utterly unaware, Illidan stood, his eyes focused on ... the contents of the journal. 

Sarah's heart clenched. She ran over and grabbed the book. "What do you think you are doing?" she said, her voice tinged with anger. "That is private!"

Illidan did not let go of the book and looked up, surprised. "You – you understand this?" he said, astonished.

     "Of course I do! It is highly personal about Khadgar and me." She tugged at the book again, becoming more agitated when Illidan would not release his grip.

     "No its not!" His mouth betrayed a glimmer of a smile, but it was not meant to mock.

     "Yes, it is! I spent all day yesterday reading it, well into the night and again this morning before you all arrived. I have not finished it yet."

     "I did not know you understood ancient Thalassian."

She huffed. "It is  _not_  Thalassian, it is the common language, English, where I come from. Look!" She managed to free the journal from his grip and opened a page that while not divulging anything too personal, was nonetheless meant for her.

The night elf looked, shaking his head in disbelief. All he saw were magical symbols, and scripts swimming before his eyes. "I beg to differ," he said.

She turned the book back to herself and flicked through some more pages, all beautifully written in common language, easy to understand. "It is plain to see Illidan!" her voice trembled with frustration and irritation.

     "I swear, I do not see what you seem to.  Am I right in assuming that this expresses loving things to you?"

     "Yes."

     "I do not see that. What I  _do_  see are ancient, nearly forgotten symbols, scripts, spells and incantations. They bear nothing of a man's personal feelings for a woman. It is simply pure magic."

Now Sarah shook her head. This could not be. "No! It depicted everything, from the first moment I arrived in Azeroth, to our time in - Draenor.  I read up to when I told him I was cursed to love him..." Her voice faltered. Her face was then awash with the dawn of realisation.

Illidan must have experienced the revelation at the same time, for he stared at the book, then glanced at Sarah, before his amber orbs returned to the journal. "A ward of secrecy," he said. Then, as if to himself only, he whispered, "The Thalassian Secret.  All is not lost."

Sarah shuddered. She had heard that same phrase three times before. First from Farseer Drek'thar with his prophetic ramblings, then Vindicator Ocel when he spoke to Khadgar at the Dark Portal and finally in her dream, by Khadgar himself.  But what did it mean? Was this journal simply cloaked in a ward to prevent prying eyes from reading his detailed expressions of love for her? It was not a measure he had taken with his journals of years gone by, otherwise, surely, she would not have been able to read  _them_. Or was it something else entirely?

Illidan spoke again. "Sarah, whatever you see within these pages, is a truth intended for you and  _only_ you. I cannot see it, but I would ask if I may study this book so that I have a better understanding of its content."

Slowly, she handed the journal back to him. With a profound sadness she told him not to take it from the house, she needed it close by. He agreed. "You may use his study if you wish," she said. "And anything within it which may help you decipher and understand the book."

He thanked her enthusiastically, reassuring her he would do nothing which would jeopardize whatever lay behind the ward for her eyes only.  She nodded. 

Try as she might she could not shake the feeling that it somehow depreciated the journal for her. Granted Khadgar's words were heartfelt and  _that_ she would cling to.  But now the book held a dual purpose. One of love and one of mystery.  It somehow besmirched the personal side of it for her.


	34. The Thalassian Secret

When Gwen arrived back with Ocel, Illidan was still buried away in Khadgar's study. The occasional shout of euphoria came from the closed room which had Sarah running to the door every time and listening. Illidan, sensing her presence, announced he was still working and had not uncovered all the magic in the symbols yet.  He needed peace to concentrate. He shooed her away.

She returned to her two female visitors, and after feeding and changing Ocel, tried very hard to keep her attention from straying along the hall to the study. Gwen spoke about how sad she was that Drew and the "young 'uns" as she referred to Bernie, Mick and Mel, had to all go back home and that she would miss Drew. Sarah smiled wistfully.  Seemed not only Erik had "adopted" her friend, but so had his partner. Erik had been withdrawn this morning, Gwen said, and she had thought it was because the Earthlings had decided to leave, so he had gone hunting to occupy his mind. Sarah felt a twinge of sadness for Erik.  He so doted on Drew.

Gwen then went on to say how amazing Arcaena looked, that she still had not gotten over the surprise of the "new Arcaena" and "regenerated Illidan"  when they had visited the cottage the day before.  Arcaena enjoyed then re-telling the story about their transformation and the look on Kayn's face as well as all the other demon hunters.  She had quite a way of telling a story did Arcaena, turning what would have likely have been a very traumatic evolution into something extremely amusing.

Sarah's attention had drifted between the two women's conversation and the door to Khadgar's study. She apologised for being such a dreadful hostess, but the women just waved a dismissive hand and carried on chatting.  Eventually, they stood up, announcing they would go shopping for clothes. It would be exciting for Arcaena to try on things which were for a normal elf.  It had been a long time indeed since she had done that. They asked Sarah if she would like to join them, but she declined making the excuse that as Ocel was now sleeping, she did not want to disturb him. Both women knew fine that was not the reason but allowed her the excuse.

Arcaena announced through the door to the study that she was leaving with Gwen and would see Illidan later.  She was answered by a grunt. She simply smiled, shaking her head, and then gave Sarah a hug. "He will uncover whatever is in that book," she said. "And you will have your words of love returned unscathed. Do not worry so, Sarah. We are indebted to you and will only do what is right by both you and Khadgar."

Sarah hugged her friend tightly. "I know, and I do appreciate it. You are my friends, however, and as such you do not owe me anything, ever." Their embrace tightened for a moment and then Sarah hugged Gwen.

     "Ah'll come by again in the mornin' if that's a'right, to take Ocel oot again." Gwen said.

     "Of course, Gwen. Thank you so much."

     "Ach, it's a pleasure lass and indeed an honour." And with that, the two women left to embark on their shopping spree.

Sarah hung about the study door. She was desperate to know what was going on but didn't dare turn the handle. She somehow knew Illidan would not take kindly to her barging in. Still, her curiosity could not be curbed. "Can I get you anything?" she asked. A grunt was all she got in response. "Something to drink perhaps? You must be thirsty," she tried.

 

**_Music: SONG OF THE SEAHORSE performed by Miriam Stockley_ **

 

The door swung open, abruptly. His amber eyes blazed brightly as he towered over her. She tried to peer past his enormous frame. Her eyes widened as she saw holographic runes floating in the air near the desk. "No thank you," he simply said, before firmly shutting the door again. She stumbled back, momentarily stunned.   

Ocel's cries duly alerted her to her son's needs. She moved through to the nursery and lifted him from his crib. "Hush now," she said softly. "Everything is fine." He continued to cry, but once she sat in the rocking chair and offered him his sustenance, he soon quietened and suckled contentedly, his tiny hands kneading the fabric of her top.  Gently rocking him, she looked out over the rooftops to the harbour and her mind crossed over the sea to a place of dreams and memories.

She compartmentalized her mind, images of Khadgar on the right when he was happy, joyful. On the left, images of their chortling son, as his eyes took in the wonders of the world.  In the centre she journeyed back to the times they had spent together, reliving the pages within the journal. 

She could see clearly the old apartment in Dalaran and their dramatic flurry through the streets as he'd pursued her, each hurtling insults and accusations.  She smiled, and a small laugh tripped from her lips as she recalled shouting at the onlookers.  Then the joy she felt the moment they expressed how they truly felt about each other once safely indoors.   

She remembered his eyes as he approached her slowly, reaching out sliding an arm around her waist, his other hand touching her cheek, her heart beating madly.  All their angst melting away in the throes of their first kiss.  She closed her eyes, suspending that moment in time; the smell his cologne, the feel of his arm around her waist as he pulled her to him; the texture of his hair, the taste of his lips.  She sighed. An ache which would never again be sated simmered in her core. Never had she felt for anyone the way she did for him. She smiled wistfully. Yet, she had never even considered him in any romantic light prior to meeting him in the flesh.

Opening her eyes, the Dalaran memory faded.  Next to return to her mind was her worry as she'd feared for him being on the Broken Isles having saved King Varian and then aiding in the release and rescue of the demon hunters.  Her overwhelming relief as she saw him stride into the court and introduce the Illidari was relived again.  She lingered on the man as he stood in front of the king, battle weary, yet demonstrating an inner strength, quietly powerful.  

Her lips smiled again as she saw a flicker of shyness cross his face when she took his hand and led him through to her chambers.  Closing her eyes, she remembered the candles offering their warm, soft glow as he loved her for the first time. She heard the quiet hiss of the candles extinguished from the splashes of bathwater. Sighs and moans of pleasure echoed in her mind and her vision forwarded to when she returned to Azeroth.

Smirking, she remembered Erik's rescue attempt from The Golden Keg.  A drunken Drew slung over his shoulder receiving knock after knock as his head bashed off chairs and against other patrons.  Her breath escaped her when she was pressed up against Khadgar, desperately trying to keep her identity hidden.  She sighed as she once more caught his scent, her longing for his closeness bordering on agony.  

Momentarily she revisited the day he came to the cottage, once he had received word of her crusade to save Illidan.  An imaginary hand dismissed the image - it was not wanted, and the picture of a waterfall in Azsuna opened before her eyes. Through the waters torrent she saw them, she felt their passion, the heat of their desire.  

Her announcement that she was pregnant was equally unforgettable. How his face lit up. Then it clouded over as he thought she was returning to Earth.  He pleaded she stay, promising to be a good father and loving partner.  How she loved him...

He fussed over her during her pregnancy, giving in to every craving she had.  She saw the look of pride on his face as they would walk in the public gardens of an evening, enjoying a late summer breeze.  And then once Ocel was born, she watched in awe as his face, filled with love, smiled endlessly when he looked at his son.

She was brought back to the present as the breeze chilled her nipple. Ocel had slipped into another sleep. She stroked his cheek. "You do like a snooze, little man," she said.  "Maybe that's best for now, right enough."  Arranging her top, she covered herself again, fastening the little buttons, then lifted Ocel gently against her shoulder, rubbing his back.  

A quite little burp puffed out from his lips, his fingers flexing and closing into little soft fists again.  She decided she would wait until he woke again to change him, he seemed fine for the time being.

 

**_Music: THE MYSTIC'S DREAM - Loreena McKennitt_ **

She stood watching her son as he slept, noting all the tiny movements of his eyebrows, the corners of his mouth, his eyes under his lids as dreams carried him through a land of fantasy. 

    "Sarah!"

She spun around, startled by the unexpected sound of Illidan's voice.  There was an urgency in his tone. His eyes glowed like burning embers and his nostrils flared slightly.  He looked almost maniacal.  A hint of traditional night elf tattoos glistened, they ebbed and flowed on his chest and shoulders as he breathed deeply.   "What is it?" she whispered. Her heart was suddenly, inexplicably pounding.

He held out his hand. "Come."

Without question, she clasped his hand and he led her through to the study. Once inside he closed the door and moved to the centre of the room.  The journal was on a podium, opened, just to the right of where he stood.  He jutted his chin towards the window. "Open the drapes and the window," he said. 

     "Why?" she asked,  never taking her eyes from him.  His amber orbs flashed to the journal then fixated to an empty space in front of him.  She crossed the room to do as he asked.  "Illidan?" 

He blinked, lightly shaking his head as if waking from a dream. "You will see," he answered, his brow pinched. "Now, move back over there." He pointed towards the door while his eyes focused once more on the empty space which seemed to fascinate him.

Again she obediently followed his instruction. "You've deciphered the book?" she asked nervously.

     "Yes! It was easier than I thought." His voice, though trembling with excitement, was also abrupt.

She could not help but feel his enthusiasm, but she was equally wary. "What is it then, this ... Thalassian secret?"

Slowly, he turned to look at her, his eyes glowing, almost pulsing.   She caught a glimpse of his fangs as his lips curled up.   His chest was heaving, his breathing deep, controlled. "Watch and you will find out," he said. "You must not interrupt though. No  _matter_ what. This is powerful magic."

She nodded, her eyes wide.  She trembled, wondering what this secret was, half dreading and half eager to find out.

He started to mumble an incantation which she could not understand.  His voice was low, deep, hypnotic.  His hands wove shapes in the air.  A globe appeared, perfectly still, glowing.   _Azeroth?_  Sarah wondered, too far back to make out the detail.  

Illidan dropped to the ground in a kneel, then she watched as his fingers flexed and curled.  Thin azure blue tendrils snaked out from his fingertips.  The wisps floated, danced and spun before dropping back to the ground. There they started to etch symbols on the wooden boards. 

Illidan's chanting gradually picked up tempo. He drew his hands around in a circle, turning on the ball of his foot. The azure tendrils followed closely, runic symbols branding the floor.  Soft black wisps, miniature phantoms from the scorching, rose and disappeared around the night elf.  A mixture of orange blossom and smoky wood permeated the air like incense.  

He rose slowly, his hands still weaving invisible shapes, the incantation steady, robust. His body glistened in a thin film of perspiration, the shimmering azure of the symbols dancing upon his skin. His eyes rolled back into their sockets, then flicked forward again, even brighter than before. 

Sarah stared, trying not to blink for fear she missed anything.  Her attention, however, was soon drawn to the window.  A strange sound was nearing somewhere outside. "Illidan..." her voice quivered.  The sound from outside unnerved her.

The night elf merely glanced in her direction and drew a finger to his lips to stop her from uttering anything more.  His chanting continued.  

The globe which he had created started to spin slowly.  The runes carved into the floor also began to move, revolving on an invisible axis, rolling in a circular motion like a large disc balancing on the point of a giant needle.  Their azure light rose creating holographic images, transparent, vibrating pillars of light.  They encompassed Illidan and the globe. 

Still more holograms appeared. Clock faces, a myriad of different numerals, their hands turning anti-clockwise danced before her.  She was mesmerised as she watched them ripple, fold and unfold around the globe, interweaving, through it, under and over.  All blended with the runes then separated out again before repeating the performance.  

 

The noise from the balcony came again.  Her eyes turned back in the direction of the window to catch the billowing voiles fluttering inward, a strong breeze having suddenly arisen.  

Yet another sound drew her attention back inside. Books on the shelves were shuddering, scrolls and rolled up sketches tumbled to the floor.  She felt the floor vibrate, a deep throbbing starting to build, travelling up her legs through her torso, reaching her extremities.  

Her eyes fixed on Illidan, pleading for reassurance the room was not going to collapse around them.  He merely smiled and shook his head.  She assumed that was his way of letting her know there was no need to panic.  But, panic she did.

Her eyes shifted to the desk where she had dutifully replaced everything she had pushed off in fury days before. She had placed things neatly, but the tremors on the ground made all the documents shift and slide, the ink pots clatter and quills roll to the floor.

Casting her eyes back to Illidan she saw him turn to face the window.  His hands were like upturned claws, pulling some invisible thing towards him, slowly, carefully.  His incantation now had an intensity to it, a singular focus. 

She started to move a little closer to him, her eyes flitting between him and the window. Something was struggling on the balcony. She flinched as the sound of whatever was outside conveyed agitation, panic.

With an unexpected flourish of his arms and turning to the centre of the room once more, Illidan introduced whatever it was that had been outside to the runic circle.  It landed with a dull, brutal thud. Sarah screamed, then quickly covered her mouth for fear she broke Illidan's concentration.

Her eyes bulged as an unidentifiable black mass squirmed and grew in the middle of the magic symbols.  The cries that came from it were unbearable.  The creature, if that indeed was what it was, was obviously in pain. The runes spun round faster, growing brighter, their magical thrum intensifying as they moved, blending with the tortured cries of their prisoner. 

At that point she saw Illidan move away, back to the journal, his chanting unbroken as he turned the pages, searching for whatever text he required. The sheen on his skin was shimmering even more; the conjuration was exacting much effort from him.

He moved back to the runic circle again, his eyes almost like flames as he focused on the incarcerated creature. His hands continued their command of the runes, clock faces and globe. All were whirling around at an unfathomable speed, now creating the effect of a shimmering azure wall.

Sarah could not help but feel pity for whatever Illidan had trapped within the circle, its anguished cries obviously voicing its pain and fear. 

Inching nearer she tried to see what was held within the confines of the runic barrier.  Its tormented cries upset her more by the second. She looked desperately at the night elf, tears welling in her eyes, pleading with him to stop the torture.  Why would he want her to witness this barbaric act? He did not acknowledge her, he merely kept focused on the magic barrier and its occupant.

A roar from within the circle had Sarah clamping her hands over her ears. She openly wept. Unable to bear any more she grabbed Illidan's arm. He shrugged her off. He looked like a madman, driven by some hidden purpose. He appeared almost intoxicated by his chanting, the sounds punctuated with an alarming zeal.  She called out his name but still, his attention bore down on the suffering creature behind the wall. She tried again to tug his arm. 

His voice now adopted a feral tone, guttural.  The eyes he turned towards her were so terrifying, fierce, she backed away, stumbling.  Her hands automatically splayed out for support as her bottom hit the floor.  She winced as a judder shot up her spine.

 

**_Music: ENOCH by Audiomachine_ **

Purposefully, Illidan strode over to the corner of the room, still maintaining the fevered chanting. His hand clasped tightly around Atiesh, Khadgar's Guardian staff.

Sarah shook her head in disbelief. "No!" she shouted. "You must  _not_  use that!" Ignoring her, he moved back to the edge of the runic wall. He slammed Atiesh on the ground once, twice, three times. Azure beams shot forth from the carved ravens' eyes atop the staff, bearing down on the black mass that continued to writhe and thrash on the floor.

     "No!" Sarah screamed again, reaching out in protest.

Illidan slammed Atiesh again. The creature cried out, the sound hurting Sarah's ears.  She dared to crawl nearer,  desperately trying to see what made that sound. Again the staff slammed on the floor.  

The runes, clock faces and globe spun at an impossible speed. The thrumming sound they made was starting to hurt her ears and their brightness was burning her eyes. 

Then with startling suddenness everything ...  _vanished!_   Silence. The azure runes, globe, clock faces - gone. Everything dispersed - except the moaning, black mass on the floor.

Sarah threw a hateful glare at Illidan. What manner of man was he to torture a beast so. He simply stared back, exhaustion in his eyes, his chest heaving, perspiration trickling over his face, chest and abdomen. There was no remorse in those amber eyes. 

She snatched Atiesh from his hands and placed it beside herself on the floor.  He did not protest.

Tears still tracing down her cheeks, her eyes fixated on the black mass.  It was still alive going by the trembling form and the strained breathing. Tentatively, she reached towards it.  The creature was wounded, and so being would likely attack her in a bid to defend itself if indeed it had the energy.  

It shifted, straightening from the foetal position it must have pulled into during the attack.  Sarah shrank back, whimpering. She waited a few moments, then dared to move forward again. It moaned. With her hand shaking, she lightly touched what she assumed was its head. Another moan, louder, and it jolted straighter again.

Sarah gasped as she realised what the black mass actually was. Hundreds of feathers fell from the shape and formed a soft pile on the floor around it. She stared at them as they shifted and settled repeatedly from the slightest of draughts. Her eyes moved back to the figure which had shed them. 

There, trembling, sweating, and obviously in considerable pain, was a human.  One with familiar steel-coloured eyes. 

     "Sarah," he croaked, reaching out before he lost consciousness. His hand hit the floor, disturbing some of the feathers.

Sarah clasped her hand to her mouth. Her eyes, wide, disbelieving, she stared up at Illidan. " _No_!" she breathed. "This cannot be!" 

 A small smirk appeared at the corners of Illidan's mouth.  He nodded. "Oh, but it is, Sarah."


	35. All Is Not Lost

She stared for the longest time at the figure on the floor. A million questions flooded her mind. Who was this...interloper? Where had he come from? Why did he look like Khadgar? What foul trick was Illidan playing? Why had he done this? Had she grieved for nought? Had the nation grieved needlessly? Was it at all possible that in front of her - lay Khadgar? 

The list went on and on. Inside she felt utter confusion - elation, torment, sadness, joy. Anger. Her breathing started to quicken, her voice was screaming up from the pit of her stomach, but it came out as a pathetic gasp. "What sorcery is this Illidan?" Her eyes never moved from the unconscious form on the floor.

     "Ancient," the night elf replied simply as if that was all the answer she needed.

     "Do not patronize me!" she hissed, finally locking eyes with him. "Khadgar is gone.  _You_  told me that on the mound when I tried to dig him out."

Illidan, still exhausted from the magic he had induced, shifted on his feet. He swallowed before answering. "I was wrong," he said with a shrug.

     " _Wrong_?" she growled. Slowly, Sarah struggled to her feet. Illidan reached down to help her but she shrugged away from his hand. Once she was standing, she stared up at the amber orbs. "You were  _wrong_?" Fury was building in her. "I have grieved for  _days_  and cried  _oceans_  of tears. Now you do  _this_? If this is some strange elven form of comfort you are sadly mistaken! Who  _is_  this man?" She pointed to the figure on the floor.

     "It is Khadgar," Illidan replied, his voice, the typical soft lullaby of the elven race. He watched as Sarah shook her head in denial. "I swear it, Sarah. It  _is him_. This is no trickery." 

He watched as yet more tears fell. He reached out again. This time she did not shirk from his touch. "Let me take him through to your room. He must sleep. He is injured. You should heal him enough for him to be comfortable, then you can do more tomorrow."

Her eyes lifted from the man on the floor to Illidan and back again.  If she thought the pain of mourning had been barely manageable, then what she felt now was truly indescribable.  In her heart, she was desperate for this injured person to be her beloved Khadgar, but the trauma of the last few days was strenuously denying even the remotest possibility. Still, she heard herself asking, "Is it  _really_  him?" Her voice had taken on the nervous tremor of hope.

     "Yes! I will explain after we take him through to your room and you heal him."

She looked back at the trembling figure. Certainly, it looked like Khadgar. It had sounded like him when he said her name, for all he was drained, exhausted. Could she dare hope that this was indeed the man she loved? 

She sighed. There was no way she would dismiss even the most minuscule of chances. Had she not prayed that he would return to her somehow, that first day she stepped inside their house again?  _"If your spirit can hear me, please come back to me. I don't care how. Just, _please,_ come home!"_ 

She turned to Illidan. Inhaling deeply, with an apologetic twitch of her mouth, she asked him to carry the man through to her bedchamber. The seven and a half foot night elf lifted him with ease and carried him through. 

He moaned as they manoeuvred him to remove the remnants of clothing which clung to his body. Mostly he had numerous bruises, minor cuts and one or two grazes. Sarah grimaced when she saw a deep wound in his shoulder. A serrated gash, the blood congealed and a glistening pus seeped from the centre of the wound. 

Illidan inspected it. "Looks like he took an arrow. Either he managed to pull it out himself or someone else did it for him. It also looks like it had been tended to, yet ... It reopened and needs thoroughly cleaned. I will leave you for a while so you can heal him. Not too much for tonight, Sarah. Enough to make him comfortable." 

Sarah nodded and Illidan left the room, respectfully, quietly.

 

**_Music: ALLA NOTTE (ADAGIO) performed by Miriam Stockley_ **

 

For a few moments, Sarah just stared at the man in her bed. The man who looked so like Khadgar. Who  _was_  Khadgar! she told herself, desperate to believe it. 

She reached towards him, her fingertips almost touching his face, but drew back at the last minute. Somehow, she thought to touch him would make him evaporate, vanish; renewing her pain of losing him all over again. 

She had been diligent in not brushing against his skin when she and Illidan undressed him. It was an unfounded fear. She had, after all, touched his head earlier, but that was before his identity was made known. Yes her thinking was preposterous, she tried to reason with herself, but it was there - persistent, unrelenting. The fear of opening her eyes and finding herself alone - again - was suffocating.  

Shaking her head at her irrational thinking, she steadied her breathing and her eyes carefully scanned his injuries.  _How long has he suffered like this_ , she wondered. _Who_  had hurt him? She decided not to fill her mind with such questions but instead utilise her time on healing him. With her magic, she would not need to touch him, she could heal him simply by thinking it and moving her hands above him.

Her tattoos pulsed, the soft soothing glow growing steadily brighter. Carbonated waves of white-gold ethereal matter seeped from her hands and were absorbed into his skin. Her eyes watched as the soft rivulets of the gift of the Naaru worked their way into the deep gash on his shoulder. Their colour darkened slightly as the infection was extracted from the damaged tissue. She witnessed it travelling up through the effervescent streams, being broken down, sifted, purified then simply floating away on near-invisible wisps. 

He groaned and grimaced in his sleep. She drew back slightly, easing the intensity of the healing process until he seemed settled again. Moving her hands as if in some exotic dance, her magic continued to infiltrate and cleanse the wound. 

With one hand she manipulated an invisible needle and thread which stitched the inner wound while her other kept the tissue clean, unsullied and sanitized. She managed a tiny smile as she saw the improvement. The outer wound was then closed and over it she conjured a gauze-like covering, infused with the white-gold of her enchantment.

Her heart pounded as she swept her hands over his entire body - careful still not to actually touch him - and dutifully removed any dirt, dust and dried blood. He omitted an occasional small moan or two, but nothing that sounded like he felt discomfort. The magic washed over him like an extraordinarily fine gossamer, glistening, rippling, addressing all the dips and rises of his body; muscles, sinew, tendons, his entire skeletal frame. 

Closing her eyes she travelled a most unique journey - beneath his epidermis; her inner vision probing, sensing if any internal injuries or fractured bones lurked. Thankfully, there was nothing, mainly mild surface cosmetics, that was all. No doubt his joints and muscles would ache when he woke, whenever that might be, but that was to be expected. 

She would work on him more tomorrow, too much now could disturb him from his sleep; the greatest medicine of all. Gradually, her empyrean magic dimmed, and with it, the infection from his wound was eliminated. Gently, she draped the sheet and soft blanket over his torso.

She gazed at his face. A few days stubble had taken over his jawline, throat and cheeks. She was trying to decide whether she liked it or not when he turned his head. A contented sigh left his lips and his eyes fluttered open for a split second before they closed fully again. 

Her eyes settled on his mouth. She so desperately wanted to kiss those lips. She would know then if it was truly Khadgar who lay in her bed; there was no mistaking how his mouth felt. But, that underlying fear of him disappearing washed over her again. 

She moved back, resisting the temptation to press her mouth against his. She would wait. Until she was sure.  As she gazed at his face, she smiled.  How this mirrored when he had found her at Stone Cairn Lake and then watched over her while she slept.  Her heart swelled.  This was meant to be. Was it not?

A soft knock on the door and she glanced up to see Illidan looking in. She turned her eyes back to Khadgar. She loathed leaving his side. The night elf sensed her trepidation. "He is not going anywhere. He will probably sleep for hours, if not days," he said softly. 

Her eyes flitted over to the night elf and back again. "Sarah! Come. Let him sleep. " Illidan persisted. He held out his hand. Reluctantly, she accepted and they left the sleeping man.

* * *

 

Illidan did not let go of her hand until she was settled on the sofa in the living room. He crossed to the sideboard where he had taken the liberty of pouring two glasses of wine. Accepting a glass, she noted he had placed the journal on the small table between the seats. He took the chair opposite her and she looked across at him. 

Although it was extremely inappropriate timing, she could not help but smile as the huge seven and a half foot night elf tried to wedge himself into an ordinary armchair. He caught her smirk and his soft rolling laughter sounded in his chest. "Yes," he agreed to her unspoken observation. "Not exactly designed for the likes of me, I know."

     "You would be more comfortable over here," she said laughing lightly, patting the cushion next to her.

He shook his head. "I will be fine," he smiled. He took a drink of his wine, then looked at her for a few moments until their mirth subsided. "You must have many questions," he said.

She sipped. "Yes," she replied, the corner of her mouth twitching with an aporetic smile. "Too many though to even think of one, right now."

Illidan smirked. "Then let me try and answer those unspoken ones. Firstly, I need to reassure you, the man in your room  _is_  Khadgar. The Leader of the Kirin Tor, Archmage, your lover, Ocel's father and my friend." 

He waited until she acknowledged his words. She nodded. "Secondly, the journal," he waved his hand over the book. "I think primarily, it is exactly what you thought it was, a book in which he wanted you to know his feelings. A testament if you will. A sacred declaration of the love he felt, nay -  _feels_  - for you." 

He watched as her face as relief spread over it. The confirmation that devotion and passion was Khadgar's main purpose when he put pen to paper appeased her. "As for the ward of secrecy..." he continued. Sarah's eyes locked with his. Illidan drank from his glass.

     " _All is not lost._ " She said suddenly. " _You_  said that when you realised there was magic in the book. Drek'thar also said it when he spoke with us in Draenor and Vindicator Ocel mentioned it to Khadgar when we were in the Dark Portal. What does it mean?"

Illidan nodded and informed her it was a term used thousands of years before relating to a magic that would be required to alleviate a particular situation. It was not openly spoken about and was more commonly known as the Thalassian Secret although he believed many other races now had their own version of it. 

The problem it was intended to correct should never have come about in the first place, had rules been observed, he explained. It was only in absolutely dire situations it would have occurred. The spells required to make things right were considered amongst the most powerful and potentially  _lethal_ forms of magic.

Thousands of years ago, in Illidan's times when he was but a youth, High Elves, as they were collectively known then, were the only race who could shapeshift. It was instilled in them from an early age, that there was one particular instance when they should never,  _ever_  transform. That was in the midst of a time portal. They could shapeshift before or after entering, but never while within. To do so, would mean they would be unable to return to their elven form for their transformed selves would be of neither their own time nor that of the other side of the portal. They would be stuck whether it was in the form of a cat, a bear - or a bird.

 

 

Khadgar, being human, as was his mentor Medivh, could not ordinarily shapeshift. They relied on powerful magic to do so. That is why both used Atiesh, the guardian staff which was empowered to transform its wielder, thus enabling them to adopt the form of the raven. 

Sarah now understood what had happened to Khadgar. Yet, it could have been prevented altogether had he done as she said and moved to her. This she voiced to Illidan, who agreed, but then suggested that the Thalassian Secret was a safety net which Khadgar had put in place should the only option be for him to transform within the portal. It's collapse happened so suddenly, he was caught inside. Thankfully, his forward thinking had saved him, but at a cost. If they had not found the journal, he may never have been returned to his human form. 

     "But how did he know that we would manage this? I mean, well - well, we  _didn't_ , for days! The  _whole world_  thinks him dead. They are still grieving." Sarah said, desperately.

     "Yes," Illidan replied, a look of perplexed encumbrance crossing his handsome face. He took a deep breath then looked at her with a reassuring smile. "He is an extremely astute individual though Sarah and to have had the foresight to do what he did, considering the Void was constantly attacking his persona, his thinking, his feelings, well ..." The elf was genuinely amazed by Khadgar's strength of will. "I think somehow, the people of Azeroth will simply be so overjoyed to have their Archmage back, that the whole, sorrowful - misunderstanding, will be overlooked."

Sarah guffawed. " _Misunderstanding_? Oh, I  _do_  hope that is how they view it, Illidan."

     "I am sure they will. But, in answer to your query about how did he know we would find out, you said that you had not read to the end?"

She nodded and took another sip of wine.

     "There was a small footnote in the common language. The only section in the language I could see and read too. It asked that you pass the journal to me, for there was something he wanted me to check."

     "Check?" her eyebrows pinched up.

     "I had to first, by using the magic, see if he had indeed survived as a raven and then I needed to locate him. I can tell you I was relieved to find his presence in Stormwind. But, that is why I could not involve you until I knew for sure."

Sarah nodded. Then she shared another thought. "I should have been able to detect his heartbeat though," she said.

     "No, you wouldn't, for it was the heart of a raven that survived, not the man himself."

     "But I can hear the hearts of many creatures," she protested.

     "The heart of a true creature and that of one shapeshifted like Khadgar's are very different, Sarah. Technically, his raven form does not exist, for it was created purely by magic."

     "Your people are also undetectable when shapeshifted, then?" she asked, trying to grasp the intricacies of magic in its varying forms.

     "No, you will hear our hearts whatever shape we take, for it is part of our heritage, our bloodline, our species. Now, of course, others can shift but only if they practice druidism or shamanism. I assure you they are still nevertheless, clumsy at it compared to my people." 

She clasped her hand to her forehead. "Oh, this is so complex. I do not know how you all manage to perform these different types of magic and understand what does what and how..."

Illidan laughed. "It is no more different to learning a trade, Sarah, but granted some are more gifted than others." He fought a smirk of supremacy.

She looked up at him with a grin. He had every right to feel superior she thought. Placing her glass on the table, she rose and moved over to his side. She took his free hand in both of hers. He placed his glass on the table and covered her hands with his. "None are more gifted than you, my friend," she said sincerely. "Well, maybe Khadgar," she smiled. 

Illidan laughed softly. "He is fair competition certainly."

She curled her slender fingers around his huge hands. "Thank Elune your nose got the better of you when you picked up that journal."

Illidan's fangs flashed as he laughed softly again. "The magic  _called_ to me Sarah, I was not being nosy."

She hung her head, embarrassed. After a moment she looked back up at him. "Well then, I still thank Elune and whatever other forces are out there that have blessed us with your friendship. I apologise for doubting you in the study..."

He huffed and rounded his shoulders. "I would have probably done the same if the shoe had been on the other foot. You have no need to apologise, Sarah. Ever."


	36. A Changed Woman

The next day, having seen Gwen off with Ocel in his pram for another one of the dwarf's long walks, Sarah dutifully tended to Khadgar's wounds. Continually using her magic to ease the bruises and grazes, she hoped to have relieved some of the aches and pains he would be subjected to when he woke. Having put a new dressing on his shoulder wound, she was pleased to see it was healing very nicely. There would be quite a prominent scar left, but at least that would be the worst visual reminder of his injury.

She had asked Illidan to keep Khadgar's 'resurrection' secret for the time being. She wanted to ensure his complete recovery before he had to face the hundreds of disbelieving faces and no doubt the inevitable questions. She had to prepare him for that, for it was uncertain whether he would be aware that Azeroth had spent the last two weeks almost, believing their most prominent Archmage was killed at the Dark Portal.

There was no telling how long Khadgar would be unconscious for, however, and Sarah expressed concern that he may not wake at all, but remain comatose. This, Illidan assured her, would not be the case. He was confident the Archmage would be back on his feet within the next few days. He did, however, point out that the Kirin Tor may be a little problematic. Much as it irked him to think this way, he voiced that they were most likely engaged in deliberations as to who would be appointed as their new leader, given that they were still under the impression Khadgar was dead. He suggested a meeting with at least one of the Six.

Sarah gave his suggestion consideration and after talking it over with him, they both decided the best one to talk to, although neither liked her, was Modera. She had been the longest-serving and possibly the one most likely to be considered for the vacant post.

Illidan offered to escort Sarah to the Violet Citadel in Dalaran, but she refused to go, saying she would not leave Khadgar. She also needed to be home for Ocel and by all accounts, everyone had to think things were moving ahead as the populace expected - she was meant to be a bereaved woman she reminded him. Her sudden absence may be looked upon as unstable behaviour, irrational and irresponsible for her son's sake if nought else. The meeting, therefore, would take place in her home.

The night elf did not think this wise, but Sarah explained that it would likely require Modera seeing Khadgar, for her to believe he was alive. The need for discretion obviously, was paramount.

   

A knock at the door. She ignored it. They usually went away after two knocks.

Archmage Modera continued looking through the Kirin Tor document, outlining the requirements of an individual should they be appointed Leader. Her heart was just not it, but she was asked to give it her consideration in time for the pending meeting of the Council in three days time. They had decided that it was prudent to proceed with naming the new Leader of the Kirin Tor. She sat, staring at the script without really seeing it. The light from the tall candelabras whilst bright enough, still irritated her eyes with their flickering.

In fairness, it really was more to do with the fact she simply did not want to read this document. A light breeze blew in through her window and automatically she dropped her purple and silver Kirin Tor paperweight upon the neat pile of documents on her desk to stop them fluttering over the side.

A second knock. Again she ignored it.

She flipped over to the next page of the lengthy manuscript. She honestly had thought she would never have to pour over this ever again, or at least not for a very long time yet. The Council, however, and even Jaina Proudmore, had voiced that she would be an excellent choice. Although in years gone by she had believed herself to possess the very makings of a reliable, dependable and honourable Leader, that opinion no longer resided within her.

She was in fact very surprised that Jaina herself had not decided to reclaim the mantle again. It seemed however, the golden-haired former leader had still not warmed to the Horde being allowed back into Dalaran and most certainly would not tolerate any of them becoming part of the Council again. That bias sat uneasily with the remaining Council members, who had been in quiet discussions about broadening the reach of the Kirin Tor, as in the olden days.

A third knock sounded, this one more persistent.

She stared at the door irritably. There was no point trying to avoid this one it seemed, whoever it was. She glanced back at the document. If she was honest, she would not really mind an interlude. This was not an enjoyable task. The pain from the loss of her Leader was still very fresh, and this exercise seemed callous, even by Modera's standards.

A fourth knock sounded. She sat back in her cushioned chair and placed the document to one side. "Enter!" she called across the room a little shrilly.

A male assistant shuffled in, bowing apologetically, his hands wringing nervously. "For - forgive me Archmage, for this interruption." The boy's forehead shone with beads of perspiration.

Modera would have normally taunted the boy, enjoying watching him squirm, but she was not in that frame of mind today. "What is it Allerton?" she said, not altogether unkindly, but not exactly friendly neither.

     "A gentleman - a  _very tall_  gentleman wishes to see you," he said nervously.

Modera rolled her eyes. Quinton Allerton hailed from a reputable family in the Arathi Highlands. His family had sired two very promising mages.  Quinton was meant to be the third. Somehow, Modera felt the family were going to be disappointed. The boy, while keen and studious, was nonetheless dim and controlled by a painfully shy persona. On reflection now, as she studied the skinny lad, she felt a twinge of guilt at having afforded him such hostile receptions in the past.

"Does this ' _very tall_  gentleman' have a name?" she asked.

The boy fidgeted, his hands furiously grinding against each other. "Erm, he did not say, Archmage, but - but ..." He squirmed, obviously unsure how to continue.

     "It's alright Allerton. Spit it out!" Modera encouraged.

The boy moved further into the room, closer to the Archmage's desk. He kept bobbing his head, afraid to make eye-contact with her. "He is erm - an  _elf_ , I think." Allerton's voice was but a whisper.

Modera stared at the boy before movement at the doorway drew her attention. The 'very tall gentleman' stood, cloaked, a few feet inside the room. "Archmage," a velvet voice said from within the large hood. The figure inclined his head in way of a courtesy.

A squeak came from the shy assistant. "I'm sorry, Archmage, I could not stop him following me. He's  _awfully_ big." Allerton whispered.

The Archmage blinked, not surprised by the youth's nervousness. The elf was indeed tall, but most were, it was genetic after all. "It's quite alright, Allerton. Now run along." The boy's brows creased, he could not believe he had got away with this intrusion so lightly. He bowed a few times, then skirted past the 'very tall gentleman' before scuttling out the door and closing it a little forcefully.

 

 

**_Music: STRANGELY BEAUTIFUL by Amethystium_ **

 

Modera remained seated and stared at the cloaked figure. "And who are you?" she asked, straight to the point. She absent-mindedly drummed her fingers on the armrest of her chair.

     "Oh, we have met before," the soothing voice of the elf drifted out across the room.

Modera thought she saw a glimmer from inside the hood. "I have met a few of your kind, but I'm afraid I do not recall everyone's name. So please be so kind as to enlighten me as I am at a disadvantage."

The elf reached up and slid the hood back. He stared at the Archmage, a slight grin forming on his mouth.

She stared back. He was an impressive male, handsome as elves go. His black hair was glossy, worn loose and undoubtedly very long though most was still tucked away under his cloak. His skin bore a purple pigment. But it was his amber eyes which held Modera's interest. She had never seen such incredible eyes before. They almost rippled, like dancing flames in a fire grate. "Do you still not remember me?" his hypnotic voice floated across to her.

Modera's mouth felt a little dry and she ran her tongue over her teeth and lips in an attempt to remove the tacky coating. "No! I think I would have remembered someone with amber eyes had I met them," she replied. Her voice had an unusual tremor. She jutted her chin forward attempting to look unperturbed by the imposing elf.

Her visitor took a few steps forward, flipping his cloak over one shoulder. In doing so Modera's eyes were drawn to the sculpted abdomen which although it was covered by a fine linen shirt was still very noticeable due to the close fit of the fabric. He had a slow, deliberate gait; one which had Modera shifting in her chair.

She was astounded to feel her heart beating a little faster. As he neared, her skin flushed. She had an uncontrollable urge to clear her throat, which she did; twice. The room was suddenly unbearably hot. Quickly she glanced towards the window to check if it was still open. It was, but only marginally.  Was she coming down with an ailment? she wondered. Perhaps a seasonal cold or something?

The elf stopped a few feet from her desk. His grin widened, and she saw a glimpse of his fangs between very full, inviting lips. "Last time we met," he said, "you thought I was full of surprises."

Her brow furrowed. "Did I? Well, I - I'm very sorry but I still do not..."

     "You called me Betrayer." The elf seemed to grow in height as he straightened, towering over her desk.

Modera's eyes widened. She felt herself pressing back in her chair, her hands gripping the armrests tightly, knuckles white. " _Illidan_?" she gasped. "B - but... _how_?" Finally, she managed to push herself up from her seat and she quickly stood behind it, using it as a shield between her and the former demon hunter.

Illidan laughed softly. "You do not need to fear me. I will not dangle you by your throat this time."

The Archmage stared at him, still inexplicably drawn to his eyes. Inwardly, she wrestled to look away, but despite herself, she could not. "Have you put some sort of - spell on me?" she asked, a little breathless.

Illidan looked down at her desk and spied her Kirin Tor signet. He picked it up, pretending to study its detail. Strands of his ebony hair had fallen forward covering his face. Modera found herself leaning down trying to catch a glimpse of his eyes. He inclined his head ever so slightly to look in her direction. She was instantly aware of what she had been doing and pulled herself straight. Illidan laughed softly. "Do I enchant you now, Archmage?" he smirked, his fangs just catching the light from the flickering candles on her desk. A flash of amber shot her way from under his dark lashes.

She had to forcibly stop herself from clutching her breast. "No! That is not what I meant, at all!" She said hurriedly. Her breathing was uncharacteristically short and sharp. "I meant, you look - you look ..." She was flustered, a condition she was not accustomed to.

Illidan, grinning, put down her ring and looked back at her. "Different?" he offered.

     "Yes! Quite!" She felt a little unsteady.

     "Hmm." He inhaled and exhaled lengthily, drawing out the Archmage's noticeable discomfort. 

Turning his enormous frame to face her, he drew himself up to his full height. His charismatic smile captivated her, she seemed transfixed, fascinated, as if waiting for him to utter or do something astounding. "And you, Modera..." A small sound escaped her mouth as her name tumbled from his lips. But his smile suddenly faded and his eyes darkened. "...are just the  _same_." He finished dismissively.  Her brown eyes filled with uncertainty. Her fingers gripped the back of her chair as she was jolted back to reality.

Illidan paced in front of her desk. "My appearance does not change who I am, Archmage. Suffice to say I am still no fan of yours, but I am here on an important matter which far outweighs my dislike of you." His voice, although it still maintained the characteristic soft tone of the night elf, had another edge to it. His opinion of her was crystal clear.

The amber eyes drifted over the document Modera had been studying minutes before. She reached forward and snatched the parchment away. She was drawn to his eyes once more. "You look to replacing him  _so soon_?" His voice was laced with disapproval.

Modera faltered. "It is, sadly, a necessary obligation, but not one I enjoy."

     " _Really_!" he spat, remembering quite clearly how vitriolic the woman could be.

     "Yes! Really! Khadgar was a great man and a prestigious leader. It saddens me immensely that... he is gone." Her face crumpled slightly.

Illidan studied the woman before him. The tremor in her voice had sounded genuine enough and her expression appeared sincere. She was quite unlike the emotionless, cold witch she normally exuded.

Had recent events made her a changed woman? Perhaps the loss of Khadgar had indeed upset her greatly, in which case, his errand might turn out easier than he thought. Leaning across the desk he spoke again. "I am here at the request of another. One I think, you should have the courtesy to meet. And perhaps apologise to."

Modera moved out from behind the chair. Carefully replacing the document on the desk, she straightened as she looked up at the elf. She needed no more clues. She knew to whom he referred.

In a way, it was a relief that Sarah had asked to meet with her, for it had been preying on her mind from the day she had seen her - broken, distraught with her world ripped from under her at the Dark Portal.  And then again at the memorial service, as she bravely tried to maintain a quiet dignity amongst the hundreds of mourners. She took a deep breath. "How is she?" she asked Illidan.

The amber eyes flashed, holding her gaze, assessing the sincerity behind her enquiry. He thought how best to answer her but decided she would know soon enough.

"I suggest you do not go in your Kirin Tor's finest." His eyes raked over her attire. She gulped and lowered her gaze to her robe, thinking about how best to dress for the occasion. Illidan continued. "She wishes you to visit her home and would appreciate all discretion."

Modera nodded. "I understand," she replied. Her breathing was still being manipulated by the mere closeness of the night elf. "I will just be a moment, and then I will portal us to Stormwind."


	37. Better Friends, Than Enemies

The subtle whoosh and swirl of a portal opening in her living room reached Sarah's ears as she prepared for her guest. It's rippling vibrant centre reflected on the walls and furniture, momentarily making the room waver and shimmer in hues of azure, violet and jade. 

 Having poured some wine, she turned to face the portal and saw the slender figure of Modera emerge first, followed closely by Illidan. The portal started to shrink, then with a pop, it disappeared.

Sarah took a moment to observe the Archmage. The plain caramel coloured robe, with its black bodice which tapered to the waist, was unassuming but beautifully tailored. The Archmage wore her platinum hair back in a low bound ponytail, strands tucked behind her ears exposing the heart-shaped face and its precise sharp features. The woman before her was well known for her rigid, unfaltering ego. In possession of a viper's tongue, Modera readily used it to whip those she considered as lesser mortals into speechless, babbling fools. Sarah had been psyching herself up for this battle of wills. 

Today, however, Modera seemed humble, demure; almost representing the actual human side of her species. She approached the woman and offered her a glass of wine. Her visitor stared at the glass as if it was an alien object. "Would you prefer tea?" Sarah asked her as she proceeded to hand a second glass to Illidan.

The Archmage blinked then reached out to accept the wine. "No. This is perfect. Thank you."

Sarah nodded and gestured for Modera to sit, while she returned to the sideboard and poured some wine for herself. The Archmage sat on the edge of the sofa, cupping her glass in both hands. 

She glanced a little nervously at Illidan who remained standing, watching her with mild amusement; his bewitching amber eyes seeming to flare periodically. She felt the need to clear her throat again. Tearing her gaze from the night elf she took a small sip of wine. She was strangely thankful when Sarah sat in the armchair opposite so she could focus on her hostess instead.

     "You must be wondering why I have asked you to come here?" Sarah began, her tone not sharp, but demanding the attention of the female mage nonetheless.

     "Indeed. I would firstly, however, like to convey my sincere condolences," Modera said. She glanced quickly at Illidan. The elf sipped his wine and turned his head to look at something out of the window. 

The Archmage was perplexed to discover she was somewhat disappointed he was not looking at her anymore. On hearing Sarah inhale as if to respond, she quickly continued. "I also wish...to apologise." 

At that, Illidan did look at her. Modera shifted her gaze back to Sarah. Lowering her voice to almost a whisper, she pressed on. "I was very blunt and said some unforgivable things to you when we were in Draenor." She took another sip of wine. "I have no concept of what you and Khadgar felt for each other. I have never been fortunate enough to have shared such feelings with someone." 

She risked a peek from under her lashes at Illidan but dropped her gaze to the floor when she saw him still looking at her, his eyebrows dancing with confoundment at such a bold admission. "I am sorry to have been so derogatory and unfeeling."

Sarah felt like the wind was taken from her sails. She had believed there would be a verbal battle with this woman. It, therefore, left her somewhat at a loss when she had been so pleasant and apologetic. 

She looked at Illidan.  _Had he said something to the woman before they arrived?_  she wondered. Or...She fought a smirk which threatened to betray her. The furtive glances from Modera in Illidan's direction had not gone unnoticed. Was it possible the transformation of the former Lord of Demon Hunters had caused certain stirrings to build in the ice queen of an Archmage? 

Illidan caught her throwing a discerning look his way and his brow furrowed, questioningly. She smiled enigmatically and turned her attention back to Modera. "Apology accepted," she said. 

She still didn't warm to the woman, but she did feel something bordering sympathy that she had never experienced love. Modera nodded, a look of gratitude in her eyes. "And so," Sarah continued. "The reason I have asked you here. I need to know what the Kirin Tor are thinking about as far as their leader is concerned." Modera tilted her head as if not quite understanding the question. Sarah tried another way. "Are you thinking about replacing Khadgar?"

The Archmage shifted uncomfortably and sipped at her wine before answering. "The Kirin Tor needs a leader, Sarah."

     "So that's a 'yes' then?"

Modera glanced awkwardly at Illidan. The amber orbs watched her with interest. She felt her skin prickling, like from being in the sun too long. Quickly she took another sip of wine, then regretted it instantly, thinking perhaps it was what contributed to her feeling hot under the collar. She met Sarah's gaze again. "It is. Unfortunately."

Sarah stared. "You do not sound keen."

Modera took a deep breath. "It was not something I thought we would need to do for a very long time. I sincerely wished we did not have to do this. I would have liked for Khadgar to have been our leader for many years yet."

With a look towards Illidan for affirmation, Sarah decided it was best not to drag things out. "What if we told you then, your leader was still alive?"

Modera's jaw dropped, her eyes widened. Her eyes darted between Illidan and Sarah, attempting to determine what kind of trick they were trying to pull. The expressions their faces held suggested this was no skullduggery. They were serious. "How can this be?" she breathed. "I saw with my own eyes, the portal collapsed on him. We all grieved.  _You_ grieved!" she pointed to them both. "All of Azeroth..."

     "He  _is_ alive, Modera. We did not know at first either. Thanks to Illidan we found him."

The elf moved into the centre of the room and placed his wine glass on the table between the sofa and armchairs. "No Sarah, it was Khadgar himself who led us to him." His amber eyes flicked over to Modera, who sat gazing at him, mouth agape. He smirked and the female Archmage instantly inched back on the sofa. Her face flushed. 

     "How?" she squeaked, her eyes trying to subtly follow him as he moved to the side of the armchair Sarah sat in.

     "You have heard of the Thalassian Secret?" he asked her.

She nodded, slowly. "I have heard of it, yes, but I did not think it was practised nor indeed taught anymore."

     "And you would be correct, it is not. Khadgar however, believed he may be in need of it and so left the scripts hidden within in a secrecy ward of a book."

     "May I see this book?" the Archmage was instantly enthralled. Her adoration of the seven and a half foot elf temporarily dampened.

     "No, you may not," Sarah said firmly. 

Modera was obviously disappointed. 

Sarah felt the Archmage deserved a little more of an explanation. "The book is also very personal and I do not wish other's eyes to see what was meant for me." 

The Archmage's brow furrowed as she glanced back at the night elf. Illidan picked up on her unspoken question right away. "I could only read the Thalassian entries, not those meant specifically for Sarah. I doubt your eyes would see beyond his ward, however, its construct was extremely complex and drawn from my people's teachings." 

"Ah," Modera nodded that she understood. It was something indeed which Khadgar had always excelled at - secretive wards.

"But," Sarah sighed heavily, a little unsure that the following suggestion was sensible but resigned that it was the only option available. "You may see Khadgar if you need proof."

Modera's eyes widened. She took a moment or two to consider. Looking between Sarah and Illidan she formed her opinion. Finishing her wine she held out her glass for more. "No. I do not need proof. I believe you. You of all people would not lie about such a thing."

Sarah was stunned by the Archmage yet again. This time she was glad to be wrong in her assumptions of the woman. She knew without doubt Modera was in fact delighted that the re-election of a leader would now be unnecessary. The Archmage's voice shook Sarah from her reverie. "The fact he is not here in this room right now suggests to me he is perhaps recovering?"

Sarah nodded.

     "Then may I be so bold as to ask for more wine and we will discuss how best to inform the world that Khadgar has risen from the dead so-to-speak?" A most pleasant smile lit up her face.

Sarah shared a look with Illidan. This had been surprisingly easy. 

Modera, not one to miss things herself, noted the look between them. "I know I have been less than approachable, curt and basically, horrid, but that is me, I'm afraid. You have, however, earned my trust and deep-felt respect. I will gladly work with you on this." She raised an eyebrow and shook her glass again.

Slowly, a smile spread across Sarah's face. Taking the glass, she nodded. "I think we will make better friends, than enemies certainly, Modera." The Archmage smiled, relief clearly written in her eyes.

Over more wine, Modera explained that the Council were due to meet in three days time to determine their new Leader. Her manner once more became almost coy when she informed them that they had been looking towards herself to take up the role. She admitted there was a time she would have considered it, but not now; not after all that happened at the Dark Portal. 

Normally a quick decision was made after such a meeting and from the result based on the Council members' votes. With Khadgar still recovering, indeed in a comatose state for now, and the uncertainty of how long he would be unconscious for, it would be difficult to postpone the meeting without them knowing why. The Council, she assured Sarah and Illidan, would certainly be sworn to secrecy if they too were drafted in on the miraculous survival of their Leader.

There was also every possibility, she pointed out, that other magical authorities, guilds and affiliations outwith the Kirin Tor would begin to question their uncharacteristic hesitancy to appoint a leader. That, in turn, would lead to a supposition of the Kirin Tor's ability to remain as the head of political affairs in the magical community. They were not, after all, exactly held in high esteem by some groups within the field, nor by many others out with for that matter. The most positive reaction the Kirin Tor had experienced in years, was when they had Khadgar at their helm.

There was no way of knowing how long Khadgar would take to fully recover until he regained consciousness, and that too was an unknown factor. 

After some deliberation, they decided to inform the other Council members of the situation and together they would be able to derive a feasible excuse for postponing the announcement of a potential new leader.

Modera also suggested moving Khadgar to his chambers in the Violet Citadel to ensure confidentiality until he fully recuperated. Sarah vehemently argued against this, saying she and she alone would look after him. The Archmage duly apologised and retracted the suggestion, seeing the pain in Sarah's eyes at the thought of her beloved being removed from their home. 

Time was getting on, and Sarah expected Gwen to return with Ocel soon. She asked Modera if she would kindly return to the Violet Citadel and consider how best to inform the Council. Modera nodded, understanding fully that her presence in the house could start some gossip, attention which none of them needed at this crucial time. The woman thanked Sarah for both her hospitality and her trust in this matter.  With one last look of admiration cast in Illidan's direction, she then quietly disappeared through a portal to Dalaran.

The elf turned to Sarah and once more saw her look of a quiet acumen. "What?" he asked. The twitch at the corner of his mouth a betrayal that he knew what she was thinking.

"Better pray Arcaena never sees her when you are in close proximity of the woman. I do believe that ice queen has defrosted on seeing you in your more  - appealing form, shall we say."

Illidan laughed. There was a hint of embarrassment in the sound nonetheless. 

Timing had indeed been fortuitous, for only moments later Gwen appeared with Ocel. She told Sarah and Illidan that she had taken Ocel out to the cottage, the push up the hill was unexpectedly hard-going, but it had been so worth it. The sun over the waterfall at the top had been breath-taking, and she was positive that Ocel had enjoyed it too. 

Sarah smiled. Gwen was always so enthusiastic in showing the infant the wondrous views surrounding Stormwind and things of historical interest within the city.

Sarah was returning from putting the pram away when she was momentarily taken aback as Gwen voiced an observation. "Oh, hud visitors huv ye?" She had noted the three wine glasses on the table.

Sarah shot a glance at Illidan then very quickly spun a yarn. "No," she laughed. "I was just tidying up when I came across these. They must have been from the other day when Drew and the others were here. Bad house-keeping on my part." Again she glanced at the night elf. His expression gave nothing away. 

Gwen's raised brow was also difficult to interpret. Her other eyebrow soon disappeared into her hairline as she heard a deep moan from the direction of the hallway. Sarah's eyes almost popped from their sockets. It had come from her room.

    "Would you be so kind as to help me find a special gift for Arcaena, Gwen? Illidan asked completely out of the blue, drawing the dwarf's attention from the hallway.

Sarah quickly took Ocel from Gwen and mouthed a silent thank you to Illidan.The dwarf turned to the night elf, a broad smile spreading across her face. "Ah'd be delighted!" Gwen said. "And in fact, ah ken the very thing. Theresa Denman hus jist sterted displaying the maist exquisite necklaces in hur jewellery shop along the canals and Arcaena wis eyeing up yin, in particular, yesterday."

 

**_Music: LIGHT ON THE CLOUDS composed by Alexander Chapman Campbell_ **

 

Sarah suppressed a smirk as she saw Illidan's fangs flash in a tight smile. She reckoned his quick thinking had just cost him ... dearly, and he knew it. 

The dwarf happily moved out first as they headed for the front door. Sarah was still trying not to laugh when Illidan playfully nudged her on his way past. His amber eyes glowed; there was definite mirth in those orbs. 

Gwen let Sarah know she would be by in the morning again and then excitedly started describing some of the jewels Arcaena had been admiring to Illidan before the door clicked softly shut behind them.

Another moan from her room had Sarah rushing along the hall. Holding Ocel in one arm, she opened the door and strode in, her heart pounding, half hoping to see Khadgar sitting up. He was still sleeping, though he had moved onto his left side. She frowned; Ocel needed to be fed and changed and Khadgar needed his wounds tended to also. She waited to make sure Khadgar had stilled and settled before she took Ocel through to change him.

Her son chortled as she cleaned him and put on a new nappy. She smiled.  _How fortunate was she that she had such a happy little boy,_  she thought. Strange to think only two weeks before, his future was in the balance but now the way was open and clear for him to do and be whatever he wanted. 

Furthermore, his father would be part of his life; another miracle. She faltered, suddenly overcome and tears dripped from her eyes onto the soft towel she had Ocel lying upon. The concoction of emotions was at times, crippling still. Joy, although abound, was still competing with remnants of the overwhelming sorrow she had lived with since the Dark Portal. It was hard to completely let it all go; set it free.

It was equally difficult when embracing the fact her son and Khadgar were both with her, to try and not think about what lay even further beyond that. Going through life, not knowing what lay ahead was sometimes exciting, invigorating, perhaps a little unnerving at times, but there was always an expected order of things. Granted it didn't always work out that way, but the fact you didn't know how it would turn out, made life truly beautiful. 

She knew how things would turn out for her though. Endless. She would never live a lifetime, she would live  _many_ , and simply watch those around her fade. 

She shook her head, trying to erase such morbidity. The two most precious people to her were both in this house here and now, and she would ensure they had lives worth living, worth remembering.

She sat in the armchair in their bedroom, Ocel suckling contentedly as she watched the sleeping figure in her bed. Once her son settled and sank into his afternoon slumber she placed him in his cot then returned to Khadgar once again. 

Sitting on the edge of the bed, she drew on her power to continue healing him. Still prisoner to the irrational fear that touching him would make him vanish from her life again, she moved back a little every time he moaned or shifted slightly, ensuring they did not touch. The agony of this denial was unbearable, yet she refrained from the temptation to even stroke his cheek or trace his jawline.

The gossamer threads of her healing light worked again on his shoulder wound and washed over his entire body, some of the bruises and grazes fading before her eyes. 

She desperately wanted to believe this was her Khadgar. Part of her still could not surrender to the possibility. The recent grief from his passing was still raw and going through healing of its own. 

"Please, be you; be real," she whispered. "Hear me. Wake soon. Come to me this time, Khadgar. Come to me..."


	38. Epilogue - Do You Still Love Me?

**_Music: Villanelle || Jo Blankenburg_ **

 

There was something about this warm late spring morning. Something inexplicably wonderful. It had her feeling both elated and apprehensive at the same time. 

Having readied Ocel for his morning stroll with Gwen and seen them off the premises, she quickly checked on Khadgar. He was still sleeping soundly, so she continued to potter about doing her morning chores.

Quite why she took such fierce pride in what she was doing she did not know, but she was driven by some unknown force to have everything just  _perfect_. She even went into the garden and collected some flowers to put in vases and dotted them about the house - their colours and fragrances brightening the rooms.

She found herself in the kitchen, making chicken noodle soup and baking cookies. She laughed lightly to herself. It was as if she was a puppet, being made to do all these things, yet not against her will. She was thoroughly enjoying it. Once the cookies were out the oven, she put the soup to a simmer then went through to check on Khadgar again.

As during the days before, she used her healing to work on his wound again. It was almost completely healed, his skin having knitted together and forming the scar which would serve as the reminder of his injury. It would no doubt ache though when he woke - if he woke soon. Other bruises, cuts and grazes were practically gone, only very subtle signs of any damage having occurred.

As she settled in the armchair near the window, she stared at his face. Did she like the beard? No, she didn't. That task, however, would have to wait until he was conscious again. 

She smirked. It was something she had never done before; she was actually looking forward to shaving him. More than ever, she wanted this man to be real. To be Khadgar. It  _had_ to be him. Why did she still harbour doubts? Fear? Shielding herself against more potential heartache? 

She yawned. She felt drowsy suddenly. Perhaps using her magic so often drained her a little more than normal? She pulled her legs up under her and covered herself with a blanket. 

Her mind continued to process thoughts of doubt and hope, stirring and blending them together then trying to sift out only the positive. Illidan had been so adamant that this was indeed Khadgar. In truth, she had no reason to doubt his word. He had proved to be a loyal friend to both of them, time and again. Yet still ...

     " _Ugh!_ "

Her eyes sprang open. She must have dozed off. She shivered a little, the breeze sweeping in through the open window and carrying the delicate voiles over her and the chair. 

As the soft drapes floated back to the window, her breath caught in her throat. Steel-coloured eyes were looking at her intently. She watched, unblinking as he stared at her. Her heart pounded loudly in her ears. 

This was the moment she had waited for, pleaded for, wished for - and feared. 

His gaze went from one of love and warmth to hurt and shame within seconds. Then he spoke. "I - I'm sorry, Sarah," he managed, breathless. His voice was strained through lack of use over the past two weeks. "I didn't mean the things I said. I ..." His face was riddled with guilt.

Nervously, she unfurled the blanket from her legs. It seemed like the distance between the chair and the bed stretched out with each step she made. She blinked rapidly, the action causing her eyes to water and nip, but the bed at least was nearer. 

The man who lay in front of her turned away. Her heart sank. A little uncertain, she gingerly sat on the edge. "Khadgar?" she whispered. He did not respond. She was trembling all over, but it was now or never. "Khadgar." Her voice was slightly stronger. 

She reached out. Her eyes were fixed on her fingertips as they closed the distance to his face. As she made contact with his chin she inhaled sharply. Slowly she breathed out - relieved. He did not vanish, he was still there!  And he felt very real. 

She gently turned his head to face her. Oh, this man looked so like her Khadgar. "You have been through much," she said, her voice soft like a summer breeze. "Do not punish yourself for things that were out with your control."

Her eyes were drawn first to his Adam's apple as he swallowed, then his eyes which expressed amazement at her compassion. His voice was hoarse."I said some -  _harsh_ things, which I can never retract."

She hushed him, placing her forefinger on his lips. Everything was alright now. Everything was crystal clear. "You and me both," she said quietly. "I reacted sharply to what you said, and I'm sorry too. But I know now it was the influence of the Void. You were not alone, Khadgar, many others experienced the same torment. It was a heavy shroud of fear and uncertainty that made us say and do what we did. It was not us.  _Never_ us."

He lifted his hand, attempting to stroke her cheek, but pain in his shoulder caused him to wince and lower his arm rather heavily. Her eyes fixed on his as she watched him studying his face. Her fingers neared his cheek, then she hesitated once more, uncertain. Slowly, her fingertips moved forward again but they moved down and touched his mouth. She was still trembling.

_What are you thinking my love?_  She heard his thoughts.  _Do you forgive me, I wonder. Do you still love me?_

In response to his unspoken questions, she leaned down and her mouth covered his. That was the moment she knew, without doubt, he was Khadgar. Within that kiss, she made sure he received the answers he sought. Forgiveness, understanding, relief, joy and the deepest of love poured from her through that kiss.

A few moments later she pulled away. His eyes were darker. She knew that look. She smiled."Sleep. I will be here when you wake," she whispered, gently tracing her fingers over his eyes. He still needed to heal fully. But now she had the reassurance she needed.

Archmage Khadgar was back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here ends the third book in the series of the Sarah & Khadgar Chronicles. Thank you all so much for joining me on this little venture, I hope you found it enjoyable. Yes, it pulled away from what is happening in-game, but why not eh?
> 
> Now, if you wish to find out how tough it was for Archmage Khadgar to survive as a raven during all those days, then please read my next story... "A Raven's Tale" which I will post soon. Thank you again for reading :)


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